#anyways so today that old fear kind of resurfaced | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

Iridescent

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader/Female OC | Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst | NC-17 | Soulmate AU, Childhood-Friends-Become-Lovers AU

An epilogue to Monochrome. Contains HEAVY SPOILERS, so please read Monochrome and Spectra before you read this.

Summary: Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

Broken bones can be mended and bruises may vanish over time, but what befell Lee Donghyuck after the accident was deeper than fractures and scars. It took him five days to wake up from his comatose sleep, eight months for his body to fully recuperate, and another ten months in rehabilitation to overcome his trauma and mental state. But even then, he was never the same. He would never be the same.

As he could never be able to see the light again.

“Vision loss may strike as a devastating injury that could change your life,” his doctor once said during his regular check-up, “But it doesn’t mean that your life has ended, nor should you stop living. There’s still a beautiful world out there waiting for you. It may feel hard today or tomorrow, but you will get through this. You will get better.”

But to Donghyuck, they sounded like a string of murmurs as if the older man was drowning but still trying to mouth the words to him. Or maybe he was the one who was drowning instead, with no chance to resurface. And he didn’t mind, not at all. He wasn’t sure he had the will to do it anyway.

A gentle caress of warm fingertips and a voice as smooth as a lullaby to a child’s ears were the only ones who kept him sane. She was there, from the very first day he’d opened his eyes and seen nothing, and she continued to stay, no matter how much he’d cried in agony or screamed from bottled-up anger. She would hug him when the thought of hurting himself became too much to bear, and she would tell him over and over again, how lucky she was to have him alive and breathing in her arms. And she would still call him in the same way—Haechannie, Haechannie—between loving words that were filled with nothing but honesty, even if he no longer shone as bright as the sun.

She was the sole reason why he continued living, though not truly alive. The only one who gave comfort to his shattered heart and soul. To him, there would be no life without her.

On the day he was discharged from the hospital, dressed in his favorite white tee and a knitted navy-blue sweater she often borrowed to wear around her figure, his chocolate brown hair was long and untrimmed, nearly brushing against his collar. His skin was starting to lose its beautiful tan, and his collar bones were protruding from how much he had lost weight during his recovery. His matching dark eyes were slightly opened and they shone in a soft glow under the sun, but they were as lifeless as the waves before the storm.

But to her, he was still a sight to behold.

Pushing his bangs out of his eyes with her fingertips, she smiled. “I haven’t seen you standing under the sun for a long time,” she said, mesmerized by the way his hair was fluttering under the wind. “My Haechannie is so pretty.”

He responded by kissing her inner palm and they hugged once before she accompanied him walking down the stairs.

“One step at a time, okay, Haechannie?”

Her voice was always warm, always filled with the passion of life, as if she was trying hard to be happy for his sake as well. And it made him feel various emotions at once, from the elation of having someone as patient and loving as her nurture him back to health, from agony for being the one who always caused her trouble, and from fear of losing her if one day she woke up and decided to not love him again.

“Don’t let go of my hand. I’m here with you, Haechannie. I always will be.”

Her promise found its way to his heart, and instead of making him feel drowned like anybody else, she was the one who pulled him out of the water.

“I won’t,” Donghyuck said, tattered voice escaping chapped lips. “As long as you’d let me.”

He couldn’t see her smile, but he could somehow sense it in the way she let out her breath, in the way she squeezed his hand, in every time she spoke his name.

“I got permission from your parents to take you somewhere today before we head back home,” she mentioned before a small, excited giggle tumbled down her lips. He was sitting in what he supposed to be his father’s car by the smell of it, and he let himself stay in silence as she dragged a seatbelt forward and tied it around his body with a click. “I hope you don’t mind taking a walk because I’ve been dying to go on a date with my boyfriend.” He could hear her placing her seatbelt and the sound of dangling keys. The car engine soon started with a stutter and Donghyuck’s fingers immediately tried to find reassurance by sinking their nails into the edge of his seat, his heart ramming against his ribcages.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She hastily laced their fingers together, stealing his shivers away with how firm she held on to his hand. “Breathe, Haechannie. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you, do you hear me?”

It reminded him of their old days when she tried to protect him with a plastic sword from the monster that hid under his bed. She still had the same effects on him as to how she did back then, clouding his entire mind with the feeling of safety and assurance.

He followed her guidance and tried to smile even when his throat felt like burning and his heart trying to find its way to leap out of his chest. “I’ll—” he swallowed when an inevitable crack appeared in his voice. “I’ll be fine.”

There was a pause and he desperately wanted to see what kind of expression she had on her face, but the thought went away when he felt a pair of lips meeting his in a soft, chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding somewhat shy when she parted away but close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. “I know you’re shaking in fear and a kiss would probably be the last thing you wanted right now, but…” She brushed her thumb along his lower lip, yearning for him. “I really miss you.”

Given the situation, perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to do but to him, it was exactly what he needed. She made him feel wanted, made him feel like his existence did matter to her more than just as a burden. So Donghyuck blindly reached out to her, searching for her hands, her face, her everything, and she met him halfway, lips melding into his as naturally as breathing.

To her, he still felt the same—just as warm, just as pleasant, just as passionate although his touch felt frail on her skin. Donghyuck was still Donghyuck she remembered, the one who reminded her of the sun, and how his entire presence made her feel joy in the way no one had ever given to her before.

She was devastated when she nearly lost her sun. Countless nights were spent with her crying with her face sinking at the sheet of his hospital bed, just a few moments after he fell into his slumber with lines of tears smearing his cheeks. She had always tried to be strong in front of him and his family, but when she was alone in the dark, listening to his soft breathing as he slept, she would allow herself to break apart, just for a few moments.

Those five days when he was in his comatose state was the loneliest, most painful time she had to endure in all her years of living. Her fingers were desperately squeezing his just to feel a slight movement and she had called and called and called but he never answered. Her life was suddenly as dark as the night, where the moon had crumbled to dust with stars transforming into black holes.

So when he finally opened his eyes, her name escaping his lips, she felt like she was being reborn, finding back her purpose in life and there would be no way, no matter how hard it would be for them, for her to let go of her sun again.

“I love you,” she whispered between kisses, finding her way back to his lips with a sense of urgency every time, “I love you, Haechannie.” Fingers curling against his soft locks, lips moving from his mouth, nose, temple, cheek, before they went back to the start with shy tongues darting only to take a hint of how they other tasted. “Don’t ever leave me again. Please.”

It was he who should’ve spoken those words. It was he who should’ve begged her to stay. So knowing that she felt the same way, Donghyuck whimpered against her mouth, lifeless eyes began to spark in the way they used to.

***

He didn’t know where she was taking him away but by the briny scent that traveled the air, he muttered his guess, “Are we going to the beach?”

“Correct. Any idea which one?”

“The… The one where we spent our summer vacation?”

“Try being more specific.”

He curled his fingers, flush bloomed on his cheeks. “The one where I confessed my feelings for you for the first time?”

A soft chuckle. “That’s right. The one where you made my heart flutter, as promised.”

“I didn’t know I succeeded at that time.”

“You’ve always won against me, Haechannie. Even if I did win at something, it was only because you’d let me.”

The trip was a three-hour drive from the hospital, and they filled the silence by recalling their memories or humming songs to whatever the radio was playing. She begged him to sing, but he was only brave enough to do it after the fifth time she’d tried, and although he hated the croaky sound he made from his throat, she squeezed his thigh, saying, “Thank you for making me so happy.” He wasn’t sure what she was referring to—was it his voice or his entire existence?—but he realized he didn’t care, as long as he could fulfill his sole purpose of living.

The evening sun was warm on his face when she opened the car door and guided him to step forward into the sand, his sneakers sinking slightly into it under his weight. “Careful,” she reminded, circling one hand around his waist as he shakily wrapped his around her shoulder. “Can you smell the air?”

He could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Yeah. Salty.”

She quietly laughed. “Do you want to get closer to the water?”

“I’m…” The thought of him not wanting to trouble her was heavier than his desire. “I’m fine here.”

There was a pause, which made him ponder whether he said something wrong but then she huffed loudly. “You’re no fun. Well, we’re going to get, at least, our feet wet, whether you like it or not. So come on, keep up with me, slowpoke.”

Hearing that coming from a girl who didn’t even want to get sand on her shorts was something that made his entire body feel warm, and the sun had no part in it.

She helped him untie his sneakers, rolled up his jeans to his knees before she pushed him slowly into the water. He could feel the waves meeting his skin, could imagine how it would look like—the sand being carried away by the pressure of the water, his feet sinking a little deeper into the ground, perhaps a strand of seaweed catching around his bare toe.

“The sun is setting,” she said and he could somehow hear the grin in her voice. “Isn’t it romantic?”

“I guess.” He felt her wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna take you dancing.” Her smile was sheepish, her cheeks reddening almost the same color as the glow that illuminated her features. “Oh, wait. I forgot the music.”

“Noona—”

“Just a sec.” She held up a finger to his lips as she fiddled with her phone with her other hand. “Where’s that song you—oh, here it is.”

Donghyuck could hear the song—the exact same song he’d played back then when he’d asked her to do the same thing under the starry sky. “You’re right,” he murmured with a weak smile, as she tucked her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “I should’ve picked a better song. Thinking Out Loud is way too overrated.”

“It’s okay, it’s been growing on me these days. Been using it as my alarm even.”

Her giggle was adorable and gleeful while his was soft, almost inaudible. “Is that so…”

She caressed his face, eyes becoming tender when she noticed him leaning more to her touch. “I’ve missed hearing you laugh.”

Donghyuck’s breath hitched a little so he stayed in reticence. The sound of the wind and the crashing waves were louder than her speaker, so she urged him to sing, knowing that he already remembered the song by heart. He disinclined at first but he grew soft at her pleading.

As he began to hum along the first chorus, she stroke the skin on his nape soothingly with her fingertips. “Have I told you about the day when I realized I loved you?”

He smiled, another flashback hitting him like the soft waves around his feet. “Enlighten me, please.”

“There were two different times, actually.” She leaned closer, swaying their bodies side-to-side ever so slightly. “The first time I realized I felt something for you was back when we were still in junior high. An asshole in my class stole my sketchbook and you got into a fight to retrieve it back—even though you said you got your bruises from tripping down the stairs. I felt so happy knowing that there was someone out there who cared a lot about me.”

“I did trip down the stairs, actually.”

“Of course, you did.” But like the old days, she saw right through his lies. “The second time was when we were celebrating your birthday. I wore this yellow dress that looked way too tacky for the occasion and people were looking at me weird. And you stayed by my side, ignoring everybody in the house even though it was your birthday, and you told me that I was the prettiest girl in the room.”

He hummed in agreement. “Prettier than me even.”

“That’s right.” She snickered but her tone gradually turned into something more sincere. “So when I told you that you were my first love, I wasn’t lying nor was I exaggerating. I’ve loved you just as long as you have, I just wasn’t brave enough to admit it unlike you. And I still regret that, even to this day. We wasted so many days, and I hurt you so many times—”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, his closed eyes somehow began to feel hot. “It’s in the past.”

She broke down into another smile, fingers reaching out to swat his bangs away from his face. “You’re right. We still have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

When he suddenly became mute, it made her heart thump faster in anxiety. But Donghyuck soon tugged her closer into his chest, his arms enveloping her entire figure and she sighed in relief as he laid his chin on top of her head.

“What are you wearing?” He asked, his lips brushing against her hair.

“Only in my skimpy bra and g-string, lover.”

“No, I’m serious.” He could feel his laugh reverberating from his chest and it still felt unfamiliar after all this time. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to imagine the scenery.”

She was smiling but her eyes grew softer. “I’m wearing that red dress you said you loved.”

“O-oh…” He wetted his lips. “I didn’t realize that since you’re wearing—what is it, a coat?—“ She confirmed with a nod. “Right. What else?”

“My hair is untied, but I’ve cut it short since it became a nuisance whenever I have to go to work early and don’t have time to style my hair.”

“How short?”

“Short enough to show the necklace you gave me.”

His heart was loud in his ears, almost deafening. “You’re still wearing that?”

“Yes.” He could sense her moving away, sliding her hand down his arm in a silky-smooth touch before she intertwined their fingers. “Along with something else.”

“Wha—” He felt her guiding his fingers to trace hers and the second he touched it, it felt like his world was turning upside-down. “You’re wearing… a ring…” whether it was a question or a statement, he wasn’t clear himself.

“Yes,” she gently replied, moving even closer. “Want to guess what ring it is?”

His heart was in his throat. “Please don’t…” he shook his head, taking a step back. “Please don’t say it’s the engagement ring I was about to give you.”

But she didn’t need to answer, because what else could it be?

She reached out for him but he slapped her hand away when it reached his sleeve. “Haechannie—”

Donghyuck tripped on his feet, falling to his knees and felt the ocean swallowing him inch-by-inch, seawater seeping into his clothes. His face was nowhere near the water and yet he was gasping frantically for air, his chest suffocating and sending jolts of pain to his entire body.

He could hear her shouting his name in concern, could tell the panic in her voice, but how could he comfort her when he couldn’t even help himself?

The world was swirling in his head even when he could only perceive the darkness with his eyes. His stomach lurched as he coughed multiple times, throat burning in flames.

“Oh God, okay, you’re having a panic attack,” she sounded breathy, afraid, as she clutched her hands around his shoulders. “Breathe with me. Haechannie, focus, I need you to breathe.”

He had a hand on his chest while his other one was sinking deep in the sand. The memory of the accident—how it ruined everything he had planned for her, for himself, and the future they were about to face together—and knowing how useless he had become, to simply reduce himself into nothing but a burden who couldn’t even pass through a door without help, made him feel like his world was ending.

She pulled him into an embrace, sinking his face into the crook of her neck—a habit he once grew fond of—and whispered his name over and over again until it sounded like a prayer, steadying his heartbeat little by little with every second passing by. She only hugged him even tighter when he managed to calm his breathing. “You’re okay,” she exhaled in relief, “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

He brought his hand to the back of her head, feeling her strands under his fingers and finally noticing how short it was. “You should let me go,” he whispered, voice quivering.

Whether he was talking about her embrace or letting him out of her life, she didn’t care. The answer was the same for both. “No.”

“I’m fine now.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to stay like this.” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his sweater. “Let me stay like this.”

He kept still but he no longer answered her hug, letting his arms fell loose on the side of his body. “Why did you wear the ring?”

“Because I want to.”

It soothed him a little that she answered with those words and not “Because it’s something you wanted to give me and I know how much you want me to wear it.”

He noticed her body shivering as their knees were still buried in the sand, engulfed in seawater. “We should move. It’s getting colder.”

She eventually nodded, helping him up to his feet and went back to their car, immediately turning the heater on before she carried him to the back seat where they settled close next to each other.

“Are you cold?” She asked, her voice quivering as she took her half-drenched coat off. “Guess it wasn’t a smart idea going back to the beach in autumn, huh?” He didn’t answer, too busy maintaining his composure so he wouldn’t freak out again. “Your clothes are soaked, we should get you changed. I brought some spare with me. Oh, and a blanket too.”

She was doing enough talking for both of them to fill the silence so Donghyuck kept his lips pressed tightly shut and followed her order, lifting his hands so she could pull his sweater over his head. She unbuttoned his shirt, blushing a little when his chest and stomach came into view, reminding her of the times where they spent their days raking nails down each other’s skin, exchanging wanton moans between wet kisses.

When he was left only in his jeans, she unzipped her dress, the clothing falling off her shoulders before she slipped it off her body entirely. Grabbing a blanket from the trunk, she scooted over to his place, wrapping the fabric around both of their bodies. She took his hand in hers, rubbing his cold one with hers over and over until he stopped shivering. “You really are sensitive to cold,” she mumbled to herself, “Warm enough?”

“You should’ve just thrown it away.”

She abruptly stopped moving, hands freezing as they were holding him mid-air. “What?”

“The ring,” he murmured, sliding his hand away from hers and bringing it down to his lap. “It doesn’t have any meaning now, so…”

She took her time to reply, begging herself to stay calm even when the pain was tearing her apart. Her tone was expressively hurt when she finally spoke, “You don’t want to marry me anymore?”

He could feel his jaw tightening. “Do you still want to marry me?”

“Yes, just as much as I did on the day you proposed to me for the first time. If not more.”

She answered him fast and firm, without a trace of hesitation or doubts. But the fear that his thoughts screamed at him echoed louder in his head, reducing her promise to sound nothing more than a whisper being carried by the wind. To him, she seemed like she was about to cry, and perhaps she was, but not because she had doubts about marrying him. She was heartbroken because he appeared like he was forcing her to do something she disgusts, when marrying him had been her wish all along.

If he could see her, he would’ve seen the hurtful look that painted her face. She became mute, averting her focus to her hands that laid frozen on her lap. “Haechannie,” she eventually called, “When I think of you, what do you think comes into my mind?”

A liability. A deadweight. Someone you should abandon to make your life bearable. But he stayed as soundless as the night.

“Do you think I’m doing all of this because I’m forced to do it?” Her voice was soft, but he could sense a hidden rage between her words. “Because I’m obliged to take care of you as your girlfriend—your fiancee?”

“It’s not that, it’s—” He spluttered, turning to look at her although his eyes could only see the darkness. “I just wasn’t sure it’s still the future you want us to have.“ He hesitated, his voice became quiet. “And I’m not sure whether you still want me in this condition—”

“Why are you saying that?” Her voice grew frantic. “That’s really—That’s not—“ She buried her face in her hands, her chest tightening. “I want you—of course, I want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Somehow, her affection felt like a stabbing pain from all the self-loathe that bubbled in his chest. “But I’m not the same now.”

“Doesn’t mean that I’ll stop loving—God, Haechannie, why can’t you see that we—”

“That’s the fucking problem, isn’t it? I can’t see!” His voice was resonating loudly, colored with dismay and agony, muting the sound of waves crashing behind them. “I’m fucking blind! I don’t know what kind of face you wear around me these days. I can’t tell whether you’re lying or not when you say these words—”

“I will never lie to you—”

“Yes, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m afraid!” He broke apart, voice filled with quivers as it nearly reduced into short gasps. “I’m afraid of having you look at me like I’m a liability. I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I can be some kind of help to you when I can’t even button my fucking shirt properly. I want to marry you—God, I want to marry you so bad—but what do I have to offer? I can’t function like a normal person, I’ve lost my job, I’m going insane, and I can’t see a damn thing!”

The second he stopped speaking, only the sound of their surroundings could be heard, along with their ragged breathing. Donghyuck brought his face to the side, hiding half of his face behind his shaky fingers, inhaling a few times to control his breathing but failing on each try.

Her eyes began to water as well but she erased the tears before they could stroll down her face. “I’m not sure if you know this already but,” she said, forcing herself to smile between hot tears. “I know how you’d prepared everything that day. I was shocked when my mother told me that you’d asked for their permission to marry me. I didn’t know you were so serious about this. I was so happy, but even then, I wasn’t as happy as the day you finally woke up, five days after the accident. I was just so relieved that I could see you alive and breathing again—to hold you in my arms, to hear your voice saying my name. I know how devastating this feels to you, losing your vision so suddenly like this, and I know how insensitive I will sound to you but let me just say this.”

She reached out to him, cupping his cheek with one hand so he could turn his face around. His eyes were tightly shut, but his eyelashes were wet as they rested against his cheeks. “I don’t care that you’re blind,” she said, rubbing her thumb gently along his cheekbone. “And I don’t care if you can’t walk without hitting walls, or if you can’t make your own coffee or wear your own clothes—what I care about is that we’re both here, together, alive and well, and there is nothing in the world that could change my mind.” When he was about to turn away again, to be swallowed by his emotions, she held his face with both hands, forcing him to bare his soul in front of her eyes. “I’d rather have you in this state or worse, rather than losing you entirely, Haechannie. I need you just as much, if not more. So, if you could just trust me, please.”

Donghyuck laid his palm against the back of her hand. “You’re better off without me, Noona. And it’s not just because of how I am now. Bad things do happen when you ignore the signs and deny your soulmate—you should’ve been with Mark—”

“I don’t care about soulmates.” She was frustrated, he could tell, by the way he was so adamant about this. “Isn’t that what you said to me too back then?”

“I know, but seeing how this happened to me, I—”

“Haechannie,” she called, gripping his hand tightly until his knuckles turned white. “What happened to you is an accident. It has nothing to do with soulmates or fate—people get into accidents, these things happen—”

“Yes, I get that, but what if it’s not? I don’t care if anything happens to me, but I can’t—” He took a sharp intake of breath. “I can’t afford anything happening to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then do you want to spend your days alone instead of being with me?” Her tone was inscrutable, almost impersonal to his ears. “Be honest.”

Donghyuck bit his lip. “It doesn’t matter what I want—“

“Stop listening to your own thoughts. Listen to mine. Listen to what I’m saying.” Her temple was pressed against his, her breath fanning against his lips. “I need you, Hyuck. And if you’re too afraid to be with me, just like how I used to in the past, then let me fight for this. Let me fight for us the way you used to.” Her lips were so close to him that he could almost feel every syllable with his own. “And before you regret everything as much as I did about us, accept me.”

And just like a twig cracking under pressure, Donghyuck snapped.

He rushed to close the gap between them, his lips meeting another pair in a searing kiss and she gasped against his mouth, body tumbling backward to the seat with him pressing hotly against her. He finally let himself go, finally caved into his desires, finally devoted himself back to her like how he did in the past.

He was rushing everything, hands desperately clawing against every part of her skin that he could reach, his kiss frenzied. But all of that was a mere distraction so she wouldn’t be able to hear him whimpering against her mouth, lips quivering as he tried to contain his sobs.

“I love you,” he hastily said, holding her face with one hand as he kissed her fervently. “I’m sorry for hurting you over and over again—” The way he smashed his lips against hers was both bruising and comforting. “I just—I want you to be happy,” he groaned at the back of his throat when she tugged his lower lip between her teeth, “With or without me, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy, I—”

“With you,” she immediately confirmed, yanking against the strands of his hair as she peppered kisses down the column of his neck. “I’m only happy when I’m with you, Haechannie, so—” And she melded their lips together again, tongues sliding against one another, drowning in passion.

It was a mystery to her when Donghyuck said he wasn’t the same. He still felt like flames, burning her skin with his every touch, igniting sparks of fire in her heart with whispers of her name. But even if he was transforming into an entirely different person, she knew she would still dedicate herself to him either way.

There’s no life without you.

What started as a rush of a moment gradually turned into something slow where they began to savor each touch with more affection and less uncontrollable lust. As he needed her guidance, she switched their positions, letting Donghyuck sat with his spine pressed against the seat, the skin on his back sticking uncomfortably against the leather.

She noticed how he flinched more under her fingertips, sensitive to even a small graze of skin meeting skin. “Are you okay?” She asked, settling on his lap, straps of her bra falling off her shoulders.

He nodded anxiously, tilting his face so she could take the sign and kiss him again and she did, but her touch was paper-thin. “You seem nervous,” she commented, caressing his cheek in concern as he circled his arms around her waist.

“I am,” he admitted, cheeks turning rosy. “I’m going crazy because I can’t see you. I’m afraid that I’d do something wrong and make you feel—”

“Then I’ll let you know,” she assured him, thumb tracing his lower lip. “I’ll say everything if that’s what you want to know, so stop thinking too much.” She leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before she brushed the tip of her nose against his. “And just… feel me more.”

Donghyuck let her take his hand and exhaled softly when she pressed it against her cheek, shaky fingertips began to trace her jawline, the shape of her lips, her chin, her neck. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows were furrowed deep in concentration, and she would’ve smiled at the sight if his touches weren’t scorching on her skin, enveloping her with sensations she had been longing for months.

His other senses were heightened, noticing her scent better, listening to every gasp, every moan of his name, feeling her veins, her small scars from her childhood days—everything.

“So beautiful,” he praised under his breath but she caught it, sending goosebumps all over her body. “A-are you okay?” He asked, noticing how she fidgeted and shifted her weight. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s just—“ She bit her lip when his fingers ran along the valley of her breasts, stopping when he reached her bra. “It’s been a while since we last—” a moan escaped her lips when he slipped his thumb behind the fabric, calloused skin meeting her sensitive nub. “Haechannie…”

Donghyuck gulped, his ears turning scarlet. Not being able to see the whole thing yet hearing the sounds she made really drove him to the brink of his sanity. “God, I wish I could see you,” he nearly whimpered. “I want to see your face.”

“Do you— ” She shuddered, as he brought his lips to trace every line he made with his fingertips before. “Do you still see me in your dreams?”

He nodded once, cupping her breast and sighing in content when it fit his palm perfectly.

She flinched, pressing her hips down to meet him more, urging him to move even closer. “Present ones?”

“N-not these days,” he moaned against her neck at the needed friction. “I see your past memories more often.”

She had to stop him and push him away for a moment because she couldn’t concentrate with his lips shyly sucking bruises on her sensitive parts. “Then let’s make as many memories as we can,” she said, slightly out of breath. “Maybe you can’t see me now, but you’ll see me in your dreams. Maybe then you’ll realize just how happy I am these days, because of you.”

He parted his lips in realization. He was too consumed by his depressing thoughts that he never tried to look through a new perspective. Even when he had lost his vision, she still managed to paint a spectrum of colors in his mind, in one way or another. As long as he’s with her, his life would never be monochromatic.

So this time, he could truly smile.

“Then…” He brought his hand down, whispering against her ear, “I can see you when we’re doing this too?” He suddenly slipped behind the fabric of her underwear, sliding his finger along her folds and she almost leaped out to her feet, yelping in surprise.

“Haechannie!” Her face was flushed, even going down to her neck and for the first time in what felt like forever, Donghyuck laughed, so airy and so him, making her eyes widen when she realized just how much she’d missed seeing him like this. “Ah, you’re really just—“ but she never finished, already moving her hips against him again, lips meeting in a heated kiss as it became a necessity for both of them to fulfill.

“Marry me,” he said, breathless and desperate as he kissed her shoulder, almost sinking his nails on the sides of her hips from how tight he was holding her. “Please marry me. I want—I need you to be my wife.”

Her eyes were unfocused, just like his were. Hooking her fingers around his silver necklace, she tugged him closer before she mouthed against the mole on his neck, making him moan her name.

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.” She giggled, grabbing him by the chin in preparation for another kiss. “Idiot.”

***

340 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Hunt (dark!Slayer!Bucky x vampire!Reader)

a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Slayer

a.a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Layer

full credit for this idea goes to @deceitfuldevout who shared her genius with us for the concept of witch/witch-hunter, which morphed over time into vampire/vampire-hunter, which I eventually adapted into a weird amalgam of a Buffy AU and a Supernatural AU

@giorno-plays-piano asked to be tagged if I ever did it!

Warnings: smut, blood play (just a lil tho, but lots of talking about blood bc she’s...literally a vampire), degradation kink, sex that turns dub con/non con, kidnapping

(we are sadly deprived of any gifs of Bucky in the new jacket but please know the pic below is the Bucky we’re working with here)

Bucky clenched his jaw in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest. His grip on the steering wheel tightened with a squeaking noise as his skin skidded along the leather.

He was irritated because he knew what was waiting for him at the end of this road. The headlights only illuminated a little of what was ahead, but the predictive power of past experience told him everything he needed to know.

You were going to be waiting for him, and he never looked forward to that.

Memories resurfaced of the last time he had seen you. He’d found you in the forest and though he couldn’t prove it, he was pretty sure he’d interrupted you feeding on a deer. It was disgusting. Yet, you moved with this grace he couldn’t ignore and spoke with a smile that he couldn’t forget. You greeted him with a familiarity that he wished wasn’t merited. He was a Slayer, you were a vampire; there shouldn’t ever be a second meeting. He should’ve killed you the first time, however many months ago it was. He couldn’t even remember why he didn’t, but you slipped away that night and he swore to track you down.

He did, but he didn’t kill you that time either, because you’d proven useful. You’d sold out a vampire who pissed you off and Bucky got to put another kill under his belt. That was definitely the only reason he’d left you alive.

Then the forest. You were more feral that time, and he saw more of your monstrous side than he had before. So why was that the time he thought about when he tossed and turned at night, when he was too pent up from years of solitude, when he forced his eyes shut and slipped his hand into his boxers under the sheets--

Destination is on the right, the GPS alerted with a robotic voice. Thank god.

Bucky pulled the car into the driveway of the dilapidated mansion, shifting into park and turning off the engine; the metal blasting from the radio halted unceremoniously.

He didn’t hear the commotion inside the house until he was quite a ways from the car and halfway to the door. Of course he considered that it was a bad idea to just walk in the front door of a suspected vampire coven as a Slayer, but he wasn’t here on a hunt. At least, not the normal kind.

Before he was even on the porch, the door opened with an outpouring of pink light. He shielded his face with his arm as his eyes adjusted, but put it down when he saw it was your silhouette in the doorway.

“Slayer,” you hissed with a smile that blended pleasure and disgust. He knew the feeling.

“You could call me Bucky,” he offered.

“It doesn’t suit you,” you explained, leaning against the splintered wood of the frame. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted with a shrug, “but how could I resist a chance to jump into the lion’s den?”

“You’re here to take on a coven? By yourself?” you laughed.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he denied. “I’m looking for information.”

You raised a brow as if to say go ahead.

“A girl in the city,” he continued. “Mysterious death. Coroner is stumped, thinks it could be anything from an animal attack to a blood disorder to a ritualistic murder. Has your name all over it.”

“‘Girl’?” you repeated, as if you’d never heard the word before. “Girl, no, I don’t remember any girl.”

“White, blonde, 5’2”, 26 years old,” he listed.

“Oh!” you stopped him. “26! You mean a woman. Yes, I remember feeding on a woman.”

“So you’re confessing?”

“To what crime? She was going to die in less than a year, easily,” you shrugged. “She did have a blood disorder. Leukemia. She didn’t know it yet.”

“And do I want to know how you knew it?” he shuddered.

“It’s a unique taste,” you grinned. He felt a little unwell hearing you say that.

“I’m not sure if you’re familiar with human law,” he frowned, “but it’s still murder even if they were going to die soon. It’s murder if they were actively dying.”

“I was human once,” you deflected.

“In 1447,” he growled. You would’ve blushed if you could; you were flattered that he remembered.

“Yeah, murder investigation at that time was… very surface-level,” you admitted. “Is your plan to arrest me, then?”

“I’m a Slayer. Not a cop.”

“What you are is a wet blanket,” you grimaced. “We’re busy in here, you know. Big party.”

“I was hoping so,” he smirked. “That’s what you promised.”

“Then why don’t you come in?” you asked coyly. You hadn’t really expected him to do it.

Everyone inside jumped and scurried away the second he set foot in the door. “It’s cool,” you told them, “he’s with me.”

That didn’t seem to comfort them that much, because what business would you have with a Slayer?

They must have figured it out when you slipped away to a secluded room and dragged him along with you. He didn’t seem to figure it out until you were pushing him back against the wall, running your hands over his body through his clothes.

“What I would give to feed on you,” you whispered, running your lips over his neck. You took in a deep breath and felt a little light-headed at the overwhelming smell of his blood. He, unfortunately, reeked of Slayer, and you pushed back your instinct of fear to appreciate the man underneath. AB positive-- your favorite. “Wanted you ever since I first saw you,” you admitted. “You looked so fucking delicious.”

You pulled back to look up at him and you didn’t need vampiric hearing to know that his heart was racing: just the way his eyes darted across your face and down to your lips was proof enough.

“Why did you come here today, Bucky?” you asked quietly.

“I’m on a hunt,” he answered in a low growl.

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You have me alone,” you noticed. “You could get out your wooden stake and end this for good.”

He nodded, but didn’t move. Instead you felt his hands trail along your sides; he jumped when he brushed the skin of your arm. “You’re so cold,” he realized.

Meanwhile you thought you could burn up from the heat of him, radiating out of his body and through the thick layers of clothing. He was so alive, so awake, so present.

You pushed off his leather jacket and he didn’t even think to stop you, letting it fall to the floor. You never cared for it. He looked as good as sin in it, yes, but it smelled of death and dead things, the skin of something you wouldn’t have eaten when it was alive 40 years ago, and you wanted only to experience the life of this particular being.

And what is life but wanting? Fuck, you wanted him so goddamn bad.

He wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you into him, kissing you with instant need and dizzying aggression.

Even now you weren’t sure if he would let you live to see the end of the night. But you couldn’t see the sunrise anyway, so what difference would it make?

He made embarrassingly quick work of your dress, tearing it straight down the front. Downside of wearing something you’d had for nearly 100 years is that it’s flimsy.

His hands were back on you the second your skin was exposed. His touch was so hot that it almost hurt; his hands were so rough and strong that your heart almost clenched.

You clawed at his shirt and gasped with delight when you accidentally nicked him with a sharp fingernail and broke the skin. The flavor hit the air hard and fast; you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward so you could lean down and lick the thin red stripe you’d left on his chest. Just a taste, but the best taste you’d had in… you couldn’t remember anything tasting this good.

“I won’t kill you if you don’t kill me,” he offered breathlessly.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you agreed quickly as you began to work open his belt because the last thing on your mind right now was survival.

You groaned when you felt his cock in your hand. There was a lot of blood in that thing and you could feel it pulsing in your palm. You knew better than to put it in your mouth; you didn’t have the restraint for that.

You were thankful you hadn’t drank any more of his blood because clearly he had a better use for it. It was so big you wondered how he hadn’t passed out from it getting so hard because seriously, this man’s cock was a monster; takes one to know one, eh?

“Fuck me,” you demanded, “I want you to fuck me, oh my god.”

He nodded as a low groan echoed out of his chest. His grip moved to your hips as he pulled you up and put you on the table, pushing you down and bending over you with another bruising kiss that trailed down your body.

“Don’t fucking tease me,” you whined, “I need your cock.”

“Wait,” he instructed, kneeling before you and licking through your exposed folds. You gasped, unprepared for how strange it would feel; your hand grabbed his hair and pulled harder than you meant to, but thankfully, he didn’t slow down.

Little moans and grunts were lost against your skin as he tasted you eagerly. You were so overwhelmed with the sensation that he had to hold your hips down to keep you from squirming away. You’d been feasting on humans for 600 years, and now it seemed like he was attempting to even the score. Even you never ate with this enthusiasm. But you’d never thought about a meal so much before consuming it as he had thought about you before this moment.

You were already embarrassingly close to orgasm, and it was apparent from the way you moaned and writhed and begged.

“I’m so fucking close, just like that, please don’t stop, yes, yes, oh fuck, yes,” you yelped.

It all came to a screeching halt as he stood up and grabbed your face with his hand. You looked at him with wide eyes, confused but still appreciating how good he looked with wet lips and dark eyes and his hair all fucked up.

“You aren’t gonna come,” he explained between raspy breaths, “until I’m inside you.”

You nodded in agreement, again arching your back as if you could will him to fuck you.

He slid his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal which was embarrassingly plentiful.

Finally, he pressed his cock into you all at once and you gasped, head falling back against the wooden table. He groaned as he gripped your hips, steadying you so he could piston into you with brutal force.

And to think you thought he was going to stab you through the chest with a wooden stake. To be fair, he still could.

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you up until your face was right against his. “You’re warm here,” he informed you with bared teeth, “did you know that? So hot and tight around my fuckin’ cock.”

You could only moan, your eyes darting to his parted lips, and then his neck. You were thoroughly tempted, but didn’t want to do anything that might stop him from fucking you so perfectly like this. His hand came up to wrap around your throat-- the metal one, specifically. You were pretty sure he’d lost the arm to a monster fight of some kind but that didn’t matter now. All you knew was that this one was strong enough to crush you and it was making your head dizzy and your pussy wet.

Your moans were lost to his grip as he choked you, and you could hear the ragged sounds of his breathing as he fucked you deeper and harder. “You like getting fucked by a Slayer, huh? You’re such a whore. My whore.”

You gasped when he released your throat and you could breathe again. “Yes,” you agreed with a sob, “yours, baby.”

He chuckled a little at that, slipping a hand between your bodies to rub your clit with his thumb; you yelped and grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“You’re gonna come already aren’t you?” he mocked. “Dumb fucking slut.”

You hissed at his harsh words but you were too lost in pleasure to complain. Your eyes shot open when you felt two of his fingers slam into your open mouth and hit the back of your throat. “Choke on my fingers while you come, bitch,” he growled. “And I swear if you fucking bite me, you’ll regret it.”

It was like asking you to take a sip of sweet wine but not swallow it. His skin tasted fucking delicious on your tongue, which you swirled around the digits eagerly. He laughed: “such a fucking slut, sucking on my fingers like that. You want it so bad.”

You nodded breathlessly, whimpering as you took his fingertips down your throat. He groaned and slammed into you harder, which only served to bring you that much closer to the edge.

“Come on my cock, right now,” he demanded, and you liked to believe it was just lucky timing and not his command that struck you at that moment. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you felt yourself flexing and clenching around his length, another gush of arousal easing his way as he relentlessly pounded you.

“Good girl,” he praised, pulling his fingers from your throat to hear you pant with exhaustion. He stopped to lift your legs onto his shoulders, pushing you back but leaning over you. When he slammed into you again that time, you nearly screamed-- he was hitting something so deep in you that it was actually painful.

“Stop, it’s-- it’s too deep,” you moaned.

You tried to move back but he held you down firmly, a dark glimmer in his eye. He thrust in again, even harder, and you cried out as you tried to grab onto the table for dear life. He grabbed your wrists with each hand and pinned them beside you, laughing as you tried to fight him off.

Any normal human you could overpower in an instant. But you were no match for a Slayer. Both of you knew that.

“Let me go,” you begged, “you’re hurting me.”

“I could do a lot worse to you if I wanted. You should be thankful I’ve let you live.”

“I could say the same,” you snarled. He pulled back and rammed his cock into you so hard that you instantly screamed, tears sliding down your temple.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he ordered. “Just be a good little whore and take my cock.”

He started to move inside you, hard and fast, and you couldn’t help but struggle against him as he hovered above you.

“Apologize,” he demanded, and just as he sensed you were about to tell him to fuck off, he accentuated it by holding his hips to yours a little longer than normal, reminding you that he could hurt you so easily if you didn’t obey.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry, Bucky, please don’t… please don’t hurt me.”

He grinned as he watched you cry. “This is what you fuckin’ get for teasing me. You killed that girl to get my attention. You wanted me to find you and fuck you the way you’ve been missin’ out on for the past few centuries.”

You shook your head to deny it but he suddenly let your arms go to slap you across the face. You tried to use your free arm but in an instant he had your wrists pinned to your chest, putting all his weight on you until you could barely breathe.

“Just admit it, baby,” he said in an oddly sensitive way, like he was taking pity on you. “Just admit you need me.”

“Please,” you sobbed, near-silent from the lack of air, “please…”

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed, “begging for more.”

He trapped your wrists under his left hand and used his right to roughly grab your jaw until your mouth was forced open.

“Show me your teeth, gorgeous,” he purred. You hissed as your fangs glistened in the candlelight. “Mmm, you wanna bite me, don’t you?”

You tried to nod but couldn’t move your face much.

“The feeling’s mutual,” he grinned. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Gonna fill that tight little cunt.”

Your fight was renewed as you tried to kick and squirm away but it was useless. You grunted as his thrusts became erratic but even more painful, somehow.

“Beg for it,” he growled through his teeth. “Beg for my fuckin’ come.”

You tried to fight but only got another slap to the face, the sting making your eyes water instantly.

“Beg, whore,” he repeated, yelling. “I won’t come until I fucking hear it.”

“Please!” you yelped, and in a sense it was genuine, because once he came this would all be over, and maybe-- just maybe-- he would let his guard down long enough for you to feed on this evil son of a bitch. “Please come, Bucky, come in me, I need it!”

“Yeah, I know you do,” he laughed confidently, holding you down by your throat as he pumped into you one last time with a shattered moan. “Fuck!” he sighed, savoring the feeling of your unwilling body forced to accept his seed. The truth was, you were tighter when you struggled.

He only let you breathe once he was done, and you choked and spluttered for air as he pulled out. The second you thought you had your bearings together, you were sitting up to lunge at him. You felt something press against your chest and even before you looked down you knew it was over.

A wooden stake. He’d had it the whole time. You looked back at him and he was smiling, the bastard, even as he was still catching his breath from fucking you. The sight made you shudder.

“I was gonna fuck you, and then kill you,” he admitted, “but now I think I’ll keep you.”

You hissed with a grimace, flashing your fangs, but knew you had no recourse, no options, no way out.

“You look so cute when you’re scared,” he smiled. “Can’t wait to take you back to mine, trap you in a little salt pentagram, and fuck you senseless whenever I want.”

You whined, closing your eyes as you realized how well and truly fucked you were.

“It won’t always hurt so bad. You’ll get used to me. And I’ll feed you enough to keep you alive.”

Sounded like a cruel existence, but you weren’t ready to get the business end of your stake, so you swallowed dryly and nodded in acceptance of your fate.

He laughed and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before guiding you to stand on weak knees. “C’mon baby, let’s get you home.”

#dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x y/n #bucky barnes non con #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x y/n #dark!sebastian stan

1K notes · View notes

frogtanii · 3 years

Note

this is literally just a random scenario that popped into my head and i thought i should share. i even took it upon myself to write it out? but imagine this: atsumu coming to check up on you after the interviews knowing that you were upset, and it ends up with him forcing you to dance with him to the song "Love My Way" by the Psychedelic Furs.

warning: this might be complete garbage. also!!!!! i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible and if there are any mistakes please correct me!!!

________

it was safe to say that ever since the start of the interviews that each member of the house was required to attend, your mood had drastically declined. you usually considered yourself a strong person, but with the resurfacing of old and unwanted memories, at this very point in time, you were at your most vulnerable. the walls that you had built around your heart began to crumble under the immense pressure you were being put under.

its not that you didn't trust the boys, although that isn't to say that you fully trusted them yet, but you couldn't trust your own ability to fully contain your emotions at the moment. mainly because there had been one thought that would constantly plague your mind at all hours:

they're only being kind because they feel guilty.

no part of you truly wanted to believe that, but if there was any chance it was true and you happened to run into one of the boys, you would never be able to meet their eyes again.

so, you sought out refuge in between the sheets of your bed. both the pillows that swallowed up your tears and held your head up when you couldn't do it on your own and the warm sheets that held you in its arms, provided the comfort that you couldn't receive from another.

you could express yourself freely when you were here. all the insecurities and fears that you were forced to bottle up when you were with the others, could spill into this little sanctuary of yours, and no one would be there to judge you. but peace doesn't last, not forever.

knock, knock.

deep down you hoped that it was Yachi who had decided to disrupt your peace, because truth be told, you weren't ready to interact with the boys yet. holding grudges wasn't your cup of tea, but the damage had already been done and if there truly was a possibility that the boys were only being nice out of guilt, you wanted to be strong enough to handle that. but right now, you weren't.

your suspicions stood true as you opened the door to be met with floppy yellow hair with big, warm eyes staring right into your own.

"Hiya, angel." His voice came out breathy as if he were making sure not to scare you off or rattle you.

Miya Atsumu. the one boy who, despite the rest, never demanded too much from you or had ever been harsh to you. it was ironic, the fact that he called you angel, when in reality, he was the true angel here.

you greeted him back with a small smile, feeling too tired to use your voice. but atsumu being atsumu, he didn't let the fact that your smile never quite reached your eyes go unnoticed. stepping aside, you let him fully enter your room before closing the door. not completely, letting a sliver of light peek through the cracks, as you always did when atsumu came by.

after closing the door, you decided to make you way back to your bed, but not before a larger hand wrapped itself around your wrist. halting in your tracks, you turned back to look at atsumu who wore something that faintly resembled a frown.

"c'mon angel, did ya really think that I would let you keep moping around and sleeping all day?"

unfortunately for him, that was actually what you were thinking. the bed looked too good and your feet were starting to get cold, so going back to sleep sounded a lot better at the moment.

when you hadn't answered, atsumu decided to speak up once more, "you did, didn't you? you really are something, ya know that angel?"

completely turning his back to you, atsumu rummaged around your desk for a few seconds before turning around to face you again. you stood there confused for a few seconds until you heard a familiar beat of "Love My Way" fill up the walls of your room and two large hands grasped your soft ones.

(i would suggest playing it now!!!!!)

There's an army on the dance floor,

It's a fashion with a gun, my love.

In a room without a door,

A kiss is not enough in...

a small smile washed over your lips before you were being pulled into the middle of your floor. atsumu's feet had started to shuffle ever so slightly in order to match the beat of the beginning of the song. pulling your arms side to side, bank and forth, atsumu attempted to make you dance. you were simply giggling at his antics and bouncing your head ever so slightly, but this only gave atsumu more motivation to keep pushing you.

Love my way, it's a new road

I follow where my mind goes

slowly but surely, you were warming up and even starting to move you feet. giggle kept slipping out here and there as you watched atsumu jump around you in circles in a poor attempt to actually dance. but as you were laughing at him, with a small spark present in your eyes, something warm spread through atsumu's entire body.

...There's dust in all their hearts,

They just want to steal us all and take us all apart...

staring down at your face, atsumu took a mental image of the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed and just how wide your smile was able to go. his eyes scanned over your cheeks that were now colored a light pink as the angelic sounds of your laughter bounced on the walls. atsumu was never one to miss any small detail, no matter how clueless he could act at certain times, and when it came to you, nothing could ever be missed by him. in literal terms, you were truly all he ever saw.

But in,

Love my way, it's a new road

I follow where my mind goes. (x3)

Unbeknownst to atsumu, you were watching him just as closely. despite not being able to fully believe that the others were as kind as they were because they actually cared, but because they were guilty, you could never have any doubts about atsumu. his heart was true and he was one of the few that you were truly able to confide in. so, then and there, you made a decision. in this moment, you were going to choose a different path. the sheets that once wrapped you in their warmth were no longer necessary, and the pillows that once held your head up when you couldn't, were no longer needed.

So swallow all your tears, my love

And put on your new face.

You can never win or lose,

If you don't run the race.

you decided to walk a different path, to let go, even if it was just for a second. just for this second. even if the others weren't true to their word, it would no longer mattered. because as the song slowed and astumu's arms crept around your waist, with yours around his neck, things felt secure. you felt free and you felt safe.

you could walk this new road as long as you had him. as long as he had you.

- abel

--------

This extremely long I am SOSOSOSO sorry, please feel free to ignore this LOL

I might write more in the future if thats ok with you? so I decided to give myself a fake name because chai anon really inspired me!

Anyways, I absolutely loved today's chapter! Make sure to take proper breaks and drink water! <33333

how,,, could u say,,, this was bad?????? BESTIE M SCREECHINF THIS IS SO GOOD i am so down bad for tsumu esp after this i can’t :sobs:

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #abel anon

39 notes · View notes

bowieisworried · 3 years

Text

Get to know me Tag!

Tagged by my lovely @kingleedo

Tagging: It’s far too hot for me to engage my brain to remember urls so... @choicemillionaire for all your kindness today :)

What day is your birthday?

December 24th

What is your favourite colour?

Black or maroon

What’s your lucky number?

Do you have any pets?

Yep, I’ve got one big old grumpy cat and a fairly new cheeky little kitten

How tall are you?

5′4″, I’m a short arse. BUT I am a teeny bit above average for Scotland :D

How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Oh, umm... 7? If I was buying them for myself I’d have 1, but my aunt doesn’t believe that shoes can last longer than a damn year

Favourite song?

Fucking hell. Favourite song? Singular? Jesus...

Fuck it, Metallica - Hero of the Day. I realised that every song that came into my head as a potential favourite of all time was a Metallica song. There’s so many that mean so much to me. Really is a reason I have James Hetfield tattooed on my arm xD

Favourite movie?

Wings of Desire (Der Himmel über Berlin). Something I intend to have inked as well.

Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone who can hold their own in an argument, who likes learning, who’s willing to travel in the cheapest way possible at the cost of comfort. Someone who doesn’t mind if I stick my headphones on on a long trip.

Do you want children?

Oh no. No, no, no.

Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Nope. BUT, funny story, when I was waiting in the train station to the airport in Germany, 2 policemen came up to me and started asking questions about what I was doing, etc. and checked my passport and shit. I’d been sitting there a while because the only bus there from where I was living arrived like an hour before the train. So I probably did look rather sus xD

Baths or showers?

Showers, especially if it’s one of those fancy rainfall ones.

What colour socks are you wearing?

I am not wearing socks, I only ever wear them if I’m going properly outside lol I’m a fucking medieval European peasant, honestly.

What type of music do you like?

All of it. Everything. Though the main stuff I grew up listening to, and still love the most is metal.

How many pillows do you sleep with?

3, but they’re all quite flat so it isn’t really that high

What position do you usually sleep in?

Fetal position basically? That sounds weird but meh, one does not care lol

What you don’t like when you are sleeping?

HEAT. This heatwave is a fucking nightmare right now.

What do you typically have for breakfast?

The only time I ever eat breakfast is if I’m staying in a hotel (which I haven’t done for years). So nothing.

Have you ever tried archery?

I have not, nor should I, I’d probably kill someone.

Favourite fruit?

Pears and apples

Favourite swear word?

Fuck. Here in Scotland though it’s basically just common grammar. Cunt if I want to piss off some middle-class folk. Probably the same for German actually, Fotze.

Do you have any scars?

Not really, not any from injuries anyway. I have a small scar from where I got my MMR jab as a kid.

Are you a good liar?

Depends who I’m trying to lie to.

What is your personality type?

Sarcastic, intimidating (allegedly), basically a bit of a bastard.

What is your favoruite type of girls?

Can I just say Alex Vause? Her entire vibe, that’s my bag lol

Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie

Left or right-handed?

Right handed.

Favourite food?

Cheese and bread. Yes, hello, medieval European peasant has resurfaced.

Favourite foreign food?

Gulab jamun, it’s heavenly.

Are you a clean or messy person?

Used to be messy but I’ve managed to clean up a bit xD

Most used phrase?

“Get fucked” probably, or some variation.

How long does it take for you to get ready?

About 15 minutes, I have really short hair and don’t wear makeup so it’s easy.

Do you talk to yourself?

Nah, not particularly.

Do you sing to yourself?

I only sing if I’m alone, because I can’t sing for shit.

Are you a good singer?

As above, no. No, I am not.

Biggest Fear?

It’s always been heights.

Are you a gossip?

Not really.

Do you like long or short hair?

On other people, I don’t mind, depends on the person and what suits them. But for myself I’ve had super short hair since 2nd or 3rd year of high school, and I’m never going back lol

Favourite school subject?

I enjoyed Modern Studies and English, but my favourite was probably Graphics/Tech because the teacher was very good.

Extrovert or Introvert?

Introvert as hell, though I’m nowhere near as bad as I used to be.

What makes you nervous?

Money and covid xD

Who was your first real crush?

A guy called Adam in primary school lol Oh so long ago...

How many piercings do you have?

None at all, though I do want some. But I’m kinda terrified to get them because of the healing process and how sore they might be to get... and yes, I’ve got a fair few tattoos, but that isn’t the same xD

How fast can you run?

No.

What colour is your hair?

Naturally brown, currently dyed auburn but with like... 3 inches of roots lol

What colour are your eyes?

Green, green, green.

What makes you angry?

People acting like they know about something when they’re clearly fucking clueless.

Do you like your own name?

Yeah, it’s a good name. Annoying that most people misspell it but hey ho, win some, lose some.

Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

None of the above. I will have a cat or a dog.

What are you strengths?

Stubbornness, knowledge, the ability to shut idiots down.

What are your weaknesses?

See above lol

Colour of your bedspread?

I swap through a few but it’s currently kinda teal I guess, with a white leaf pattern.

Colour of your room?

Rented flat that I can’t paint for another 6 months, so plain old white.

#tag game #about me #not kpop #text #I'm on my laptop and don't have emojis!#KINGCHICK IS HERE THOUGH

5 notes · View notes

caroline18mars · 4 years

Text

A Man On Fire - Chapter 77

Harper arched her back in bliss, it was like life was being breathed into her again after a lifetime of coma, his skin rubbing against hers, it was intoxicating to feel all those muscles on his back flexing and rippling under her fingers, to say she had missed him and that cathedral of a body was an understatement. Hard and throbbing he pushed himself agaist her and there was nothing else she could or wanted to do then open her legs and welcome him back inside her warm body that had been deprived of his love and attention for way too long, “I need you inside of me” she breathed in his ear, he was being considerate with foreplay as always, but the fire was burning out of control already, it was time for the real deal, her head fell back and her mouth formed a silent ‘O’ as he slowly entered her, making her feel like she was going to burst. No matter how many times they had made love in the past, she would never get used to his gigantic size. “You ok?” he held himself up on stretched arms above her, with a mix of lust and concern in his glazed over eyes. Without a word but with a simple grin, she clasped her legs around his waist to urge him to move and push himself further and even deeper inside of her. Jared threw his head in his neck with a blissful groan. It was her whispered “come on big boy, just fuck me real hard and good” that drove him insane and his hips started a hard, slow thrusting that had her completely breathless by the time he sped things up. Slowly she was losing her mind in the best way possible, she lost all control over her speech, all she could utter were moans of painful, yet delightful pleasure, seeing her wriggle underneath him was so intoxicating even if they were doing plain missionary, her hands kneading her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples, moaning and groaning her way up to a much needed orgasm but that orgasm would have to wait a little, first he was going to destroy that sweet pussy of hers even harder. “I fucking love you so much” he groaned at her, a rush of blood clouding his head, it had been too long, he wasn’t going to last long but it didn’t matter, they could do it again and again and again all through the night and if not tonight then there was always the rest of their lives, because he wasn’t going to let her slip away anymore. His hips pushed harder and faster, the white hot heat building up in his groin with every thrust, Harper was suddenly swept up in a whirlwind of sensations and right after him, she too screamed out her orgasm.

Fifteen minutes later they were still glued to each other, like both their bodies had morphed into one, “don't ever leave me again, I don't wanna be without you, not even for one more second” he breathed against her forehead, being the first to break the silence between them. He could see Harper's faint smile and then she exhaled so deep like she had been waiting a lifetime to exhale and that's when he saw the tears roll down, “hey, hey, what's wrong? Babe?” he cupped her face in his hands “did I say or do something wrong?”. Harper shook her head, “No..it's not you..I don't know what's wrong..” she sniffed through her tears, “you just had so much on your plate..all that pent up stress and tension..” he kissed her wet eyes. “Just let it go, we're together now and that's all that matters, I'll help you through this, I promise” he pulled her even closer to him, dotting butterfly kisses all over her tear-stained face and his heart jumped when she held on to him and released all the tears she had in her. “I've missed you so much” she breathed, “not as much as I missed you, I was so lost without you” Jared reassured her but she suddenly pulled away from him, with a look that betrayed she didn't believe him “what? What is it?” fear squeezed his throat together. “Steph..you had a call with Steph before..you say you've missed me so much, but you still hooked up with her so soon after..us..oh djeez, now I sound like a jealous bitch” she knew she was being completely irrational but she just could help it. “You have every right to say what you say, you're right, it was the old me that resurfaced after you and I..well after we split up” he kept caressing and kissing her hair to have her relax a bit, he didn't want things to escalate between them, “I'm not that man anymore, that's all I can say”. Harper squinted her eyes “how do I know that? You were that man until..what? 48 hours or so ago?” it was a valid question, “true..but hooking up with Steph was out of..spite..I wasn't myself when you left me..I lost it and fell back into old habits..” he tried to explain but she was having none of it. “Old habits? I don't know if they're really old habits, or just who Jared is? We split up because you cheated remember?” this was not going well, not well at all, “I know..and I also know there's nothing I can say to change your mind, but I'm not gonna fuck things up between us ever again, I swear, just have a little faith..”. He was right, there was nothing he could say to miraculously make his past disappear, she had decided to take the plunge and given in to her feelings for him again, so she would just have to stick with it and start believing in his good intentions. “I think I can do that..” those six little words were all it took to defuse the situation, “good girl..Steph is out of my life, I chose you and I'll always choose you, I let things cloud my vision for the last time, she's a dumb mistake that's in the past, you are everything I need for a bright future” he kissed her bottom lip to erase the tiny pout that formed on there. “Just love me Jared, that's all I can ask, just love me the way only you can” she returned his kiss and soon all the tears were washed away by another round of glorious lovemaking.

”Any news?” Jared came walking out of the bathroom with a towel riding dangerously low on his hips, “no..no news” sighing she put her phone back on the nightstand and got a bit lost in her thoughts again, “no news is good news, right?” he sat down on the bed next to her and rubbed her thigh. “I guess so..I'll call Arno later on” she started to resurface again but she wasn't completely out yet, “so what do you want to do today?” his voice was so soft and tender, “Oh..well, I was thinking of checking in with Charles, even though I still think he's the root to all this evil..you know, bringing my parents here..” she sighed, “I know, but I honestly think that he had everyone's best intentions in mind..he's pretty shook up about everything's that happened..anyway, I'll come with you, we'll face him together, alright?” he tried to kiss her doubts away, but he knew they would only disappear when she faced Charles again and talked things through with him.

He loved walking around New York with her, here he felt he could do it because he could keep a certain kind of anonymity here, NY always kept it real, in sharp contrast to the gossip and glamour of LA, of which he was reminded by the constant buzzing in his pocket from Steph blowing up his phone even after he told her he wanted nothing more to do with her. The wonderful smell of fresh baked bread greeted them as he held the door open for Harper walking into the renowned bakery/coffee bar, “I love this place” he took off his coat and sat down, grabbing her hands, “and I didn't just choose it for its' wonderful breakfast but also for another reason” he grinned and looked out the window pointing “remember?”. Harper followed his gaze and then it dawned on her “Oohhh, the place where we first met..” she swallowed hard in excitement “that was such a weird moment”. Jared sat back grinning “weird and yet so amazing and so..normal, deep in my heart I wasn't surprised to see you turn up, I guess deep down I was really hoping it'd be you”, they were interrupted to place their order, which they did but as soon as the waiter left Harper squeezed his hand. “You were hoping for Coco to show up because you had met Harper first? Or were you feeling guilty somehow that you were going to meet Coco and in the back of your mind you were hoping for Harper?” her difficult question had him frowning and thinking for a second, pondering on his answer “Honestly, I was so fond of you both, I dreaded having to give up one for the other and then I got my prayers answered when Harper Coco showed up, I was so torn, there was Coco who was so intruiging and funny and artistic and mysterious who I was so completely besotted with even though I had never seen her, I knew in the depth of my heart that no matter how she looked, I'd fallen for her hook, line and sinker..and then there was Harper who was equally artistic and genius and completely nuts, fighting off guys twice her size, very high in energy, you were like a fucking loaded gun” his grin became bigger and bigger just talking about her “and then there was the way Harper looked that had my hormones racing, girl, I was so fuckin' jealous of Sean at the time, just the fact that you both were so physically and emotionally close”.

Harper nearly choked on her coffee “Sean and I..close? What a frikkin' nightmare he turned out to be, but it's kinda cute that you were actually jealous!! I didn't know what to make of you really..you constantly blew hot and cold on me” she lathered up a croissant with butter. “Oh really? surely there must have been something you liked about me?” he was fishing for compliments now, even after all this time she hadn't put all of her cards on the table, “I thought you had the cutest bubble butt I had ever seen” she giggled, it was a treat seeing her laugh again. “I agree, that is one of my finest assets” he hiccupped “what else?”, she stopped chewing for a second “apart from the fact that you're incredibly easy on the eye, you were also prepared to be my best friend and you supported my work from day one, that meant and means the world to me, but what I love the most about you is that you're so unconventional, you're quirky and extremely ambitious and driven but you also got the biggest heart, you were always there for me when I needed and need you most”. Every single compliment she was paying him made his heart burst, “you know you may have lost your title, but your true nobility and aristocracy always comes shining through, and then I haven't mentioned your breathtaking beauty yet”. Harper shifted uncomfortably in her seat “ok, ok, enough with the compliments..we've given each other a new chance so let's not try and fuck it up again..shall we start with that?” she pushed a strawberry in her mouth, she always had a hard time dealing with compliments. “Don't say 'fuck' too much, I'm having trouble enough keeping my cool just thinking about everything that we did last night..even you eating that strawberry is almost enough to send me over the edge, I'm getting old” he wiggled in his chair to make his point clear. “Old? You? Oh honey, after two toecurling orgasms, old is not the word that instantly comes to mind” teasing him, she let another strawberry slip between her plump lips, giggling again like a school girl when she saw him squirm in his seat even more. “Anyway, we're in a public place so let's try and keep our hormones under control” there was a faint smile and a deep sigh as she came back to reality that wasn't exactly shiny and bright for her at the moment. “I wish I could cancel every point on my agenda and just disappear for a while..I just wish I could go back to that carefee time before all this” she took a sip of her hot coffee and stared at the spot where they first met, her eyes glazing over with the memory. Jared grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb over it “I totally get that..why don't you come back with me to LA in a few days? We can pack up your stuff at your apartment and have it shipped to LA”. Harper's mouth fell open when he dropped that bomb “What? Wait..LA?” she pulled her hand back, “it's where I live, so yeah that's what I mean, LA is a lot more chill than New York, you'll move in with me and we can hide from the world for a while”. Harper's eyes became saucers “move in..with you?” she whispered in shock, “well yeah, unless you have some secret lover there that I don't know about and were planning to move in with him..of course I want you to move in with me, silly!”.

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #30 Seconds To Mars #30 seconds to mars fanfiction #30 secondstomars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 77 #Harper and Jared #Harper Coco #caroline18mars

27 notes · View notes

yuzusorbet · 4 years

Photo

A beautiful and moving fan account of GPF Torino 2019, by a fan who lives in Turin, Italy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY ONE

Yuzu is in my town. Yuzu is in my town. I can’t quite believe it: I’m having breakfast and can’t quite believe it, I go out and can’t quite believe it, I get on the subway and… yes, I start to believe it, since I’m surrounded by Poohs. So many Asian women, so many Skate Canada/FaOI/Continue with Wings bags. When I get off, I can feel the thrill: in less than one hour, I’m going to see Yuzu live! In my town! As soon as I reach the Palavela, I meet other fans: some I met last year in Helsinki, some I never met before, but it doesn’t matter. Here we are, all for Yuzu, all with Yuzu, hoping and feeling and praying and focusing for him and with – and that’s something so strong that all the differences between us – country, age, social/economical/cultural status – disappear. It’s just so beautiful (and important) to be here, together, when Yuzuru is skating at the Grand Prix Final. At last. I find a good seat – mine is not bad, but there are better places where I can settle down and watch the practice – and wait for Yuzu. The arena is not totally full but there are many people here anyway: (nearly) all for Yuzu? A roaring, thunderous shout is the answer: YES! And Yuzu has just appeared… alone. Where’s Brian, or Tracy, or Ghislain? Nobody knows, at the moment. He puts his beloved Pooh on the balustrade, then waits for the Zamboni to resurface the ice, and finally enters the rink: he bends down, touches the ice, and takes off. Yes, I can’t find another way to tell what he does: does he skate? For sure. Does he dance? Definitely. But he flies. The impression is there’s always some room between his blades and the ice, an inch of air allowing him to just float. And the noise he makes on the ice is just so different from the noise made by all the other skaters… you could close your eyes and tell when Yuzu is skating just listening to him. But of course it’s so mesmerizing to watch him: when you see him live, you catch something that you can guess even watching his videos, but that is so strong and obvious here. You can call it aura, or charisma: something so overwhelming that I feel blessed and hypnothised at the same time. The practice goes by very fast. Yuzu skates… what to say? He fell a couple of times; he pops a couple of jumps (one at the beginning of Origin run-through); his skating is so graceful, though, and solid, and pure, that no fall and no popped jump can damage its beauty at all. Moreover, he had so many outstanding moments: all his 4S and 4T and 3A; the 4T-euler-3F sequence; an unusual 3A-3A sequence; the 4Lo he lands (majestic)… and the 4Lz he lands (royal)! Really: as soon as I understand he’s going to jump a 4Lz, I cross all of my fingers and clench my teeth and… and he jumps. Cleanly, beautifully. Never underestimate Mr. Hanyu: I’d better remember Brian’s words. Finally, he cools down. A slow Italian song, Di sole e d’azzurro (“Of sun and light blue”) by Giorgia, is filling the arena. Yuzu gets in tune with it and starts his usual sequence: grand pliés, arabesques, ports de bras… in this moment, he really looks, he is Baryshnikov on ice. I don’t know how he can do it, but he’s able to fill my heart with fire and calm at the same time. Maybe it’s “just” beauty, or poetry. Maybe it’s “just” love.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY TWO: SHORT PROGRAM

How hard it is to write today, I’m not even sure I should. I drink some more tea and check my watch: it’s 11 pm. I should work a bit. Maybe writing will heal my heart a bit, though, so okay, let’s start. Let’s go back to Thursday. The day of the short program. I reach the Palavela at 6.15 p.m. I was here for Yuzu’s practice in the morning – and it was so good: my favourite training outfit (black and grey shirt), some stunning jumps (the 4Lutz!), the impression that he’s floating in kind of a bubble of brightness – and now I’m back. There’s no queue and I get quickly into the arena. There are Chinese fans providing small banners to cheer for Yuzu. There are people gathered at the Edea stand, taking picture by a big poster of Yuzu. There’s an Italian man (a volunteer from the Palavela staff, I’d say) giving out pictures of Yuzu, with a long queue of ladies in front of him. And there are so many Poohs, everywhere. I just love this context, this atmosphere, but I can’t ignore the tension that is slowly making its way inside me. A couple of hours and Yuzu will compete. I can’t wait to see him, but at the same time I don’t want to see him. I want to pay my most heartfelt tribute to the most amazing skater in history, but I know I’ll quake with fear. How can I feel like that for someone I don’t even know personally? I think about that bubble of brightness, the sound of his blades, the grace of his arms, the fire in his eyes: of course I can, for someone like Yuzu.

Time to reach my seat and watch the opening ceremony. Time to wait for Yuzu. A presenter who speaks a bad English – and I wait for Yuzu. Some famous Italian skaters who perform nicely – and I wait for Yuzu. The pairs’ short program – and I wait for Yuzu. Some more minutes. And here he is, for the warm-up. Still alone with his Pooh. Since yesterday , the rumours about Ghislain’s absence are never ending – he had an accident, he’s got problem with his visa, what kind of visa does he need to come to Italy?? – but they end now. Yuzuru is there, and when he takes off his Japan jacket and reveals his costume, he looks like a dream from my childhood: my mother would read me a fairy tale before sleeping, and when I closed my eyes I would think (or dream already) of princes and castles and singing birds and starry nights… and in this very moment, with his costume sparkling like a constellation, Yuzuru is almost the incarnation of that enchanted realm I envisioned when I was young and innocent, and so happy. And I would probably lose myself into that dream, if I wasn’t aware of the fact that the short program is going to start. Yuzuru will be the last one to take the ice. Before, I watch the other five skaters: Boyang Jin, Dmitri Aliev, Alexander Samarin, Kevin Aymoz – and, of course, Nathan Chen. He’s good but not perfect: his 4Lz looks pre-rotated, the exit from his 3A is a bit problematic, the second jump of his combination is short and definitely not effortless. But he scores more than 110 points. Just a handful of hundredths behind Yuzu’s record. What, how, why? I look at Eleonora, an Italian fan sitting by my side, and I know that my face must show the same feelings displaying on hers: awareness and wistfulness. It’s the same old story, isn’t it? As long as Yuzuru and Nathan do not compete directly against each other, Yuzuru’s scores are way higher than Nathan’s; but as soon as they share the same ice, the scoring system seems to turn upside down. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu … He’s on the ice, taking his starting position. The first note of Otoñal fills the arena – nothing else can be heard, not even the occasional coughing here and there. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu, please… Some steps, some transitions, 4S. Natural like a leaf floating in the tranquil stream of a river. Twizzles, 3A, twizzles. Pure harmony. We all wait for the last jumps, the combination. 4T… and no triple. No triple. Manuela and I look at each other. What score will these judges award to this program? To two perfect jumps, and a perfect step sequence, and perfect spins, and an obvious mistake? The answer comes soon: 97.43 points. 13 points behind Nathan. Can Yuzu still win, with these judges? Because I still haven’t look at the protocol, but it’s clear that he didn’t get the points he deserved for the Salchow, the Axel, the spins. And I’m quite sure that, even if he had been perfect, he would have earned something like 111, or 112 – no more than that. And I am sad. And angry. And I need to talk, to talk a lot, like every time I feel sad and angry. It’s a good thing that I’m not alone in front of my PC but amongst hundreds of fanyus, so we can share our sadness, our anger, and talk, talk a lot: while my friend Paolo and I walk to the subway station, while we find out that the subway isn’t working at the moment, while we call a taxi, while we share the fare with two Germans and a Japanese… …but as soon as I get off the taxi and start walking home, all my sadness and anger calm down. They don’t disappear; they just shrink to give room to something – someone – much more important: Yuzu. I wonder how he’s feeling now. Mad at himself, disappointed, too tired to feel anything else than an urgent need to just go to bed and sleep? And Ghislain is not there… Oh, Yuzu, how I would like to do something for you; something useful, not only feeling this dull pain in my chest and complaining about the scores. If only I could, I would give you a hug – to comfort you, to protect you. Or maybe I would take your hand and take you to the Po river. It’s quite close, you know? And there’s a beautiful park, called Valentino, with meadows descending gently to the water. We would watch the river flow for a while, talking only if you wished to, then I would take you to Fiorio. Have someone told you about this ancient café in the centre of Turin? There are old huge mirrors, armchairs in red velvet, big rococo chandeliers, and a creaking wooden floor; we could sit there, order a hot chocolate or their famous gianduia (hazelnuts +chocolate) ice-cream; and for a few moments, for only a few moments, you could close your eyes, savour that new, creamy taste on your tongue, and forget about those damn 13 points, that damn combo… but probably you don’t want to forget, do you? You want to understand what happened, and why, and plan what you have to do now. Just don’t spend the whole night watching your SP again and again, right? Oh God, I sound like an old auntie. I open the door of my apartment. Sadness and anger are like a faint but constant throb in my stomach. Will I be able to sleep, tonight? I’m not sure, but it’s not so important. What’s important, is that Yuzu can sleep, and Ghislain arrives in Torino, and the judges come to their senses. Have sweet dreams, Yuzu, my wonderboy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY THREE: QUAD AXEL

Fear. Joy. Worry. Fury. Emotion. What a day, the third day of the Grand Prix Final. And yet, it was supposed to be a quiet day, for us fanyus: no competition, only some practice. When it comes to Yuzu, though, quietness looks scarily like a storm, and there’s nothing we can do about it: there’s no way to be even remotely prepared to all the ideas, visions, plans and dreams that cross Yuzu’s mind and that he chooses to act out. That’s why I’m more or less calm, when I get to the Palavela. “More or less” because I had a tough night: I kept on tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about the short program, constantly grabbing and turning off my phone – eager to read anything the web could provide me about it, and scared by possible haters and nasty posts. So now I’m still sad and angry, but also too tired to have very strong feelings: sadness is a dull, feeble pain in my chest, anger a whisper that I try to ignore. I queue, get inside, talk with some friends. A few minutes, and Yuzu appears. Alone with Pooh: so Ghislain hasn’t arrived yet. Gosh, it’s all so wrong. The scores, the absence of Yuzu’s coach… we are in the middle of the Grand Prix Final and there were a bunch of bad omens already. No, I don’t want to be so negative. Yuzu needs to feel, to breath optimism and trust. Think positive, Alessandra; for the sake of Yuzu, think beautiful, think glorious! But it’s Yuzu, the one who’s beautiful and glorious. I always loved all kinds of practices and rehearsals: when some ballet company comes to my town, I always try and ask permission to attend a class, or some rehearsal. I love to see a work in progress, and all the commitment and efforts that artists, dancers and athletes put into their performances. No costumes, no lights, sometimes not even music: just the focus, sweat and love needed to succeed. When practicing, Yuzuru is like that, of course, but he also has – is – something different. The way he can look incredibly focused – and actually a bit dangerous – and turn suddenly into a playful child. The long talks he has with himself. His ability to ignore all the people watching him, just to thank everyone with a deep bow. His unexpected smiles, his gloved fingers pointing here and there while he’s planning and calculating who knows what. The lightness of his warm-ups, the grace of his cool-downs. When you watch him practice, it’s like watching a painter create a masterpiece right in front of you: his (sometimes bizarre) rituals, his methods, some surprises, the development of his work – art coming to life stroke by stroke, bit by bit: and you realize how big the privilege is to witness greatness in the making. So, warm-up. Jumps. No spins (has Yuzu ever done a spin in any practice?). Run-through. Other jumps. And then. He has just tried a new sequence for the free skate, 3A3A; so, when he skates in my direction, I think that he will try that sequence again: oh yes, he’s preparing an Axel. Then he throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet. Ouch, I hope it was not painful as it looked… he skates around the rink, then again in my direction. Does he want to try the Axel again? He throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet… Wait. He’s not popping his jumps. He’s jumping like this on purpose. And he jumps so high. Okay, his Axels are always very high, but now he’s really taking off as if he wanted to touch the roof with his fingers! I turn to Lys and Giovanna, who sit behind me. We look at each other, knowingly. Yes. Yuzu is practicing the 4A. As if he wanted to confirm what we’re thinking, he throws himself into the jump again, but this time he doesn’t pop it: he rotates it. One rotation, two, three, four… he lands before completing the last half turn, crashing on the ice. A collective gasp runs through the audience, someone screams, I grab and squeeze Lys’ calf in my hands. Oh God, Yuzu, stop it. Oh no, Yuzu, don’t stop it, let me see it again. No no no, on the contrary, don’t do it, be careful. Well, be careful but try once again… and he tries: another jump, under rotated as well, another fall. The audience is hypnotized. Someone shouts, someone cries, but it sounds like nobody could break the silence surrounding Yuzu. He seems alone now, as if no skater was in the rink but him. He skates in my direction again, and I count every second, one two three four five, until he jumps again. One rotation, two, three, four… and a half. Four and a half. Then he lands and crash on the ice again. But he made it. He has just jumped a quad Axel.

And the Palavela explodes. Shouts, cries, applause, people standing, people frozen in their seats, people scared, people happy, people who don’t fully understand what happened, but we all sense the truth: today, we were so lucky to witness history in the making. The practice is over, and Yuzu exits the rink followed by the loudest applause ever – and the longest too: our jubilation began way before he took his bows. When he disappears, everybody starts talking about his 4A. Someone’s almost mad at him (“I hope his mom is going to slap some sense into him!”), someone’s reverently astonished (“Have you seen the height of that quad? How much it was, about 95 centimetres?”), we all look on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It was supposed to be a quiet day, wasn’t it? But we should have known better than this. Because it’s Yuzu, and Yuzu always wants to climb higher walls, to aim for wider goals; to go beyond the horizon of what is possible for us, normal human beings. And this is one of the reasons why he is who he is; this is one of the reasons why we love him so much. There are winners, but he’s a champion. There are athletes, but he’s a history maker. And I left the Palavela with tears in my eyes, vibrant love in my heart.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FOUR: FREE SKATE

So here I am, not really ready for… how should I call it? The showdown? Maybe. Who are the main characters in this fight, though? Yuzu and Nathan? Yuzu and the judges, more likely. And I’m not sure it’s going to be a fair fight. No matter if the knight in his shining armour has a marvellous sword made of an outstanding technical value and of wonderful components: his opponent can be petty and play dirty, and only in fairy-tales Good always triumphs over Evil. The free skate is about to begin. The morning has been long and tiring already: we all had to queue in the dark and in the cold before Yuzu’s practice at 7 am (thank God I met some friends, like Petra and Astrid, so that I could talk a bit and I didn’t have to queue by myself, alone and anxious), then there was a collective scream when Ghislain made his appearance in the arena (he’s here! He’s here! FINALLY!!), then… well, then there was Yuzu’s practice, and watching Yuzu live is always an unique experience, no matter what he’s doing: it’s like when you’re a child and for the first time you see something unknown which surprises and bewitches you – Peter Pan is on stage and Tink is going to die, unless you clap your hands and shout: “ I do believe in fairies!”, full of emotions and on the brim of tears… After the practice I went home, walked my dogs, worked a bit: everything just to keep anxiety at bay. Now I should be tired, and probably I am; but I’m too nervous, and I have too much adrenaline running in my blood, to feel tired. I just want to see Yuzu skate. I just want to see Yuzu happy with his performance. I just want to see Yuzu win? Of course: because I want him to be happy, and I know how important for his happiness it is to win; because he’s the best skater in the whole world, and I’d like him to be acknowledged as the king he is. But CAN he win? I’m afraid not. I’m afraid that he can win only if Nathan falls, more than one time and quite hard: not just with his hands or his knee on the ice, but with his whole body… is that what I want? Do I really want Nathan to fail so badly? I wish I could instantly say: no, of course I don’t want it. But I must confess that I can’t, and I hate this unfair scoring system for this reason too: because it awakens the darkest part of me, and pulls out of me my worst feelings and thoughts. I’ve seen so many figure skating competitions, and I’ve always hoped that all the skaters could skate clean – may the best win! Since the 2018-2019 skating season, though, as the new scoring system showed more and more its limits and its unfairness, I found out how hard it is for me to go beyond my own limits, to be fair and good. So, while I’m waiting for the skaters to make their appearance in the arena, I try to think “May the best win”, but I’m not convinced. Nathan, I’m sorry, but could you please fall? Not too hard, okay, but could you undoubtedly, unquestionably fall? Or at least make several obvious mistakes, so that the so-called judges can see who’s the real king of figure skating? Oh, God, I hate myself. I have no time to blame myself, though: the music signalling the beginning of the competition suddenly resounds in the whole arena, louder than ever, and the lights go down. While the speaker is announcing what we’re about to see, there’s a collective start: the skaters are gathered just outside the rink. In the dim light I can’t tell who’s who, I just see some distant heads, but I recognise Yuzu immediately. I can’t see his features very well, but I could recognise him even if he was amongst a thousand people in the dark. The simple way he stands is so peculiar. So elegant. And when he enters the rink for the warm-up and bows to the audience, he looks so noble and proud: he’s aware that all eyes are on him, all hearts are with him. Is this awareness giving him strength? Or is it a burden? In a moment like this, when there’s so much at stake for him, I would like – I would need – how I should behave to help him as much as possible. Screaming his name until I lose my voice? Clapping my hands politely and nothing more? If only I could know the answer; if only I could be of use for you, Yuzu… …and the warm-up is over. Already? Yes, already. And I cannot watch the first four skaters, not really, because I’m waiting for Yuzu, and skater after skater my heart beats faster and my hands get sweaty and cold. I’m so full of fear, and anticipation, and love. May the best win: may Yuzu win. And there he is. So handsome that watching him I feel my eyes burn like when I try and look at the sun. May Yuzu win. So dear to my heart that I want to see him but somehow I can’t stand seeing him, so I put a hand on my eyes and watch him through my fingers, just like a child watching a scary movie. May Yuzu win… 4Lo: perfect. 4Lz: perfect as well. 3Lz: perfect again. 4S: per-fect… I’m watching the competition live so I can’t see how the judges are scoring each element of Yuzu’s skate, and I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse; anyway, so far he’s been outstanding, the judges have to give him very high GOE… 4T+euler+3F. Step out, maybe the 3F was a bit under rotated? Come on, Yuzu. 4T+…2T. He’s tired. But the quad was fantastic. Come on, Yuzu, you can do it, only the sequence 3A+3A is missing… alright, here comes his trademark, the counter back, and then… single Axel. Okay Yuzu, it’s okay, just go on, go on! Last spin. Final pose – and Yuzu can’t take it anymore, he’s so tired that the final pose lasts for less than one second, then he puts his arms and forehead on the ice, gasping for air. This is not an asthma attack, right? For a moment, I gasp for air too. Then Yuzu stands up, and bows to the audience, and I go wild like everyone else here, I scream, I cry, I throw my Winnie the Pooh on the ice, I clap my hand, I lose any awareness of myself – lost as I am in Yuzu, burning with pride and emotion. Yuzu, you made it. Five, five perfect quads, and one was that fated 4Lz. Okay, your skate wasn’t completely clean, but it was so special, and so much more than a simple “skate”: it was so full of humanity, and struggle, and glory. It wasn’t just a performance: it was a tale, and how beautifully you told it. How unforgettably.

Yuzu and Ghislain sit in the Kiss&Cry forever. Considering that picking up all the Poohs took a long while, it’s clear that the judges are having trouble with Yuzu’s score. Why? Why? The first answer coming to my mind flows directly out of the worst part of me: because they are probably looking for elements they can underscore. Oh no, please, no… “The score, please,” the speaker says. And here it is. 194 points. Technical score, 100.36; PCS, 93.64. This is not a score. This is a joke, and I can’t stand it anymore. Because I know, I simply know that Nathan will not only win, but he will set a new world record, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges give him higher PCS than Yuzu’s. I’m sorry, usually I’m not so mean; right now, though, I just can’t sit here, be polite and show any kind of sportsmanship. Those so-called judges have just humiliated the most amazing person in the whole world, and I can’t stay here and watch them play their foul game anymore. So I stand up and run out, and to hell this competition and its rules and everything. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I meet other people: some Asian women who don’t want to talk, and two girls from Los Angeles. They’re even angrier than me, and for the three of us it’s a bit soothing to share our indignation and to spit out all the rage we are feeling. If only our rage could be useful, somehow… it isn’t, though: in a few minutes we get to know that, of course, Nathan won, and that, of course, he set a new world record. So I was right, and I couldn’t be less proud of my foresight. Waiting for the victory ceremony is hard. As my friend Jacqueline and I queue at a café, rage gets less and less burning, turning into a heavy burden of bitterness. Will there ever be a way out of this shameful situation? A squad of incompetent (corrupted? Hopefully not) judges, an International Union doing nothing to promote fair competing and judging, and Yuzuru paying the biggest price. The whole queue, the whole Palavela is talking about it, but what for? We can’t change anything. We can only go back to our seats and cheer for Yuzu, make him feel how much we are proud of what he has achieved today – because that’s the truth: no matter how much the judges underscore him, no matter how many times they make him lose a competition, he’s the greatest skater of all time. It’s his technique that coaches refer to when they need to teach their skaters how to do a perfect jump/spin/transition; it’s him the one who always tries new combinations, new moves; it’s him who forced the ISU to change the rules in order to keep up with his greatness; it’s him who yesterday – just yesterday! – showed us that the 4A is possible. Only. Him. Time for the victory ceremony. And what a weird ceremony is this one. Not a single clap for any representative of any skating association, from ISU to the Italian Federation. People clap their hands for Kevin and Nathan, that’s it. For Yuzu, instead… for Yuzu, there’s an acclamation. This is not only a tribute to what he did here: this is a declaration of love and, at the same time, a battle cry. Yes, Yuzu, we love you, and we stand by you, and we will fight as much as we can to make those “experts” - those idiots who presume they have the right to judge you and humiliate you – acknowledge your magnificence. Our battle cry is so loud and never ending that Yuzu himself is astonished, overwhelmed, and points to Nathan as if he was saying “Thank you, but look, he’s the winner”. You are right, Yuzu: Nathan is the winner, yes. In our hearts, though, you won so much more than a competition. You came here, you fought your limits and fears (the 4A, the 4Lz, 5 quads plus transitions plus skating skill plus musicality plus grace), and you prevailed. You’re not only a king: you are a warrior king. The arena is full of signs with the writing “Unfair judgment”. For the first time at a competition, I hear boos from the audience. Okay, Yuzu. Let the battle start.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FIVE: NOTTE STELLATA

It’s 9.30 a.m. and the Pellerina looks peaceful and welcoming. It’s a big park in western Turin, and I came here with my dogs to find some rest. After four days of Grand Prix – four days of Yuzu – I feel like a kaleidoscope: full of whirling colours, hypnotic spirals, and surprising patterns. It’s amazing, but it’s exhausting too. There are three ponds here, a big river and so many trees, and birds. I think you’d like the Pellerina, Yuzu; maybe you’d like all of my town. Its numerous parks, the long tree-lined avenues, the creamy colour of its buildings from the XVIIth and XVIIIth century. I would have loved to be your guide, allowing you to take a break from the mad, unfair competition that this GPF has been. I can’t even start to imagine how much tired you are, and it would have been nice to take you out – it would have been magic to see you here, walking under the trees, looking at the ducks in the ponds, smiling while my dogs play and run freely… but you prefer to stay at the Palavela, don’t you? Walking around the rink where Plushenko won in 2006, looking at the Olympic rings on the wall, chatting with your fellow skaters. Are you rehearsing for the gala? I hope you’re having fun. I check my watch: 10.15; it’s time to go. The gala will begin at 2 p.m., but I want to get to the arena at about 12 and spend some quality time with my friends. Actually, surviving the rollercoaster of this GPF would have been much harder, without all the lovely fanyus around me. Yesterday, after the medal ceremony, some members of our fan group met at the Edea stand inside the Palavela; it was so crowded and narrow and noisy, but ranting all together about the judges, praising Yuzu and taking pictures were exactly the things I needed to forget my sadness for a while, to turn my anger into good energy. Then Jacqueline and I went to Eataly, a famous restaurant and supermarket, and drank our bitterness away, turning quickly from being fans to being friends (and a bit drunk). Then… Eleonora, Petra, Linda, Shuko, Rory, Mara, Astrid, Barbara, and many others with whom I talked so much, inside and outside the Palavela, and stuck together through hope and rage, pain and love. Paolo, my faithful travelling (on many subway trains) companion. Lys and Carolina, who spent countless hours talking and crying and hugging and laughing and cursing with me. All the unknown fanyus in the audience, when we melted into one body with thousands of voices to scream out loud our love for Yuzu. It was a treat, and an honour, to meet so many beautiful people, and I know that as soon as the gala is over – as soon as I say good-bye to them all – I will feel empty, somehow, and alone. I drive back home, feed my dogs, then I’m ready to go to the Palavela for the last time… for the last time? I can’t quite believe it: from tomorrow on, I won’t see Yuzu every day. This week has been tough, but so intense: the thrill of the competition, for sure, but most of all the spell that Yuzu put on anyone watching him. His commitment, the 4A, his beauty, the stunning comeback of the 4Lz… I’m bewitched. And I’m pampered too, now that I’m (almost) used to see him so often: me wants Yuzu every day! The queue is endless as usual �� I wait for my turn, apologizing silently to all the people here for how very badly this event was organised – but finally I’m able to get in. With other fanyus, I wonder which exhibition program Yuzu is going to skate: Haru Yo Koi? Yes, Yuzu must be so tired, he will rather skate something not too physically straining. Masquerade? Well, many of us would love to see it live… some time before the gala, though, we find out that he’s going to skate Notte Stellata. Oh yes, it makes sense: he’s in Italy, in an Olympic venue, of course he has chosen the Italian song he skated to in Pyeongchang. Now that I think of it, it’s always like that with Yuzu: we always try to guess what kind of music/program he will choose for the new season/an exhibition and he always surprises us, even though his choices are perfectly sensible. And I must confess that any choice would be great for me: I’m quite sure I could watch Yuzu doing cross-overs for half an hour and I wouldn’t get bored. Notte Stellata… I never saw it live. Will it be an experience as strong as it was seeing Haru Yo Koi in Helsinki? Yes, it is. So much that, after seeing it, I will forget all the other performances. So much that, while seeing it, I cry. Usually I’m not the crying kind, but watching Yuzu float like a swan on a frozen lake brings tears to my eyes. Yesterday, after the free skate, a friend of mine wrote me this message: “Each movement seems to take him beyond the limits of his human body and to emanate grace and elegance, filling your eyes and lingering in the air even as he glides into a new step”. I also think of what the Olympic commentator said about this program: “With one delayed single Axel and one triple Axel, Yuzuru Hanyu, double gold medallist, just gave a masterclass on what figure skating actually is”. Yes, that’s what figure skating actually is. Going beyond one’s physical limits on a quest for grace, elegance, and beauty. Giving goose-bumps and tears to each and every witness of this travel from what’s known to the unknown, from sport to art. What figure skating actually is, is Yuzuru Hanyu. His last spin goes on and on, even if there’s not music anymore, just like Yuzu will go on and on: in our memory, in our heart, in the history as well as in the future of this sport. And while I scream at the top of my lungs, and clap my shaking hands, I thank Yuzu: for these five days in Turin. For how alive and privileged I’ve felt. For showing me that there can be greatness even in defeat. Ganbatte for Japan Championships and for the rest of your skating season, Yuzu, but don’t worry: somehow, you are always, always, the winner.

--written by Alessandra Montrucchio (in Yuzuru Hanyu International Fan Group on FB), re-posted here with her permission. Pics belong to original owners.

#gpf torino 2019 #Yuzuru Hanyu #thank you so much Alessandra

124 notes · View notes

renee-writer · 4 years

Text

Win a Date Chapter 5 First Date

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Claire mutters the next day as she changes into jeans and a long sleeve shirt appropriate for hiking. She still mumbles as she pulls boots on over her think socks.

“It isn't like you are going to be tortured. You are going on a date with a lad looking for a real relationship. Could be worse.” Geillis says with a smile.

“Ugg. Fine but I promise you, if this goes bad, I will never trust you with a blind date again.”

“It will be fine. I've a good feeling.”

“Okay.” He pulls his hiking clothes on. “Murtagh, this lass better be all you promised. If she turns out to be another flighty lass, I will throttle you.” Jamie threatens as he brushes his red curls out and and pulls a ball cap on.

“You won’t be needing to be doing all that. She has been thoughly vetted. So go. Have a good time then you can thank me later.” Jamie rolls his eyes at his Godfather.

“If she is, I will.”

The Overlook at nine. Those were the instructions. She has no idea who she was looking for. He will find you, Gel had assured her. Knowing what she looks like puts him at an advantage. She isn’t sure she likes that. “One date.” She reminds herself. Just one if he is the jerk she fears. More if.. But no. Focus on today. She takes a deep breath and looks around. A beautiful spot with plenty of green grass and wildflowers. She had to admit he had picked a beautiful spot.

He watches her as she looks around. As advertised, she is lovely. He is happy to see the old jeans and shirt, the scuffed boots, the lack of make up, her curly hair hanging free. He smiles when he sees her push it out of her eyes. An opening.

“You need a ball cap lass.” She looks up. He is tall. Very tall. With piercing blue eyes and amazing hair. But his old clothes and casual attitude tell her, he probably isn't who she is waiting for.

“Thank you. I am waiting for someone. My mate Geillis suggests that leaving my hair down and free is better.” She self consciously shrugged.

“It is verra pretty Claire.” A jerk.

“You. You are my date?”

“Aye. Disappointed?”

“No just surprised. You are not who I was expecting…”

“Jamie. James Fraser.”

“Claire Beauchamp.” She offers her hand. He takes it long forgotten manners resurface and he lifts it up and gently kisses the back of it. “Oh.”

“You aren’t who I was expecting either. They told me but..”

“They?”

“My sister and Godfather. They set all these up. Let me know after the fact.”

“Wait! You didn't know what they were about either?” They had started walking.

“Either?”

“Yes, my mate, Geillis, she entered me in your contest without telling me until after. I swore I wouldn’t come if I did win.”

“Yet you are here?” she shrugs. “They dinna tell me until after they chose you.” He grins. “They ken'd I wouldn’t be happy.”

She smiles back. “Better to ask for forgiveness then permission, eh?”

“Aye. Something like that. Were you just as frustrating with your mate?”

“Oh lord yes!” she laughs. “I told her if you turned out to be a jerk, I would never trust her again.”

“Now would you think me a jerk?”

“Actor. I guess I had an idea of exactly what type of person you would be.” She looks fown and steps over the small branch in the path.

“I see. I was guilty of the same. The reason, you see for the contest, my last few dates have been with the same ridiculous type lasses. The want to be seen with me or want other things that wouldn’t lead to a relationship.”

“I admit that I really don’t know who you are.” Ge stops and she does too when she sees he has. “I am sorry about that.”

“Oh please don't be. I am glad.”

“Me too. To meet you. Not the façade. I am meeting you, right?”

“Aye Claire, you are. Wish to rest.” She sinks gratefully into the fallen branch. He joins her.

“I thought I was in shape.” He chuckles.

“You are doing well. So, wish to tell me about yourself?”

“I am a druggist. Own my own store. An only child who lost her parents at age five. Her uncle who raised her died two years ago. Life with my best mate Geillis. She is a nurse. My last serious relationship ended when I found him in bed with one of his students. He was a professor. I spend most evenings watching trashy TV shows with Gel. I haven’t had sex in six no seven months.” She is blushing. “God sorry. I am not after… Ah, please tell me about yourself.”

“I've an older sister, Janet, called Jenny. Our parents still live and work the farm I grew up on. Jenny is married to my best friend Ian. You know my profession. I spend most evenings running lines. But I adore mind numbing trashy telly shows. I have never had a serious relationship. It is hard when the lasses all know who you are. As for sex, it has been 29 years. A virgin. So..” She looks up at him with wide eyes. “Yah. Everyone assumes. The last date I was on, the lass straight out said she wished to take me to bed. I wasn’t interested. Sex for the sake of getting off doesn’t draw me.” He looks across the valley under them.”It has to mean more. Until I find the one who I see a future in, then.. “

“Wow. You surely aren't who I was expecting. I didn’t mean, when I told you..”

“Dinna fash Claire. I know.”

“How do you, in your line of work, keep up the image you need to project?”

“Ah, smoke and mirrors. Pretty lasses on my arm at awards shows. Photographs that seem to show me as a playboy. In reality, I am a farm boy who just wishes to act. To have a lass to partner with, raise a family with, outside the spotlight.”

“Awards. I should know you.”

“Do me a favor, okay. When you Google my name, recall what I told you, eh?”

“I promise.”

“Are you hungry or thirsty Claire. I've stuff in the knapsack for a picnic.”

“Yes please.” He lays it out. They sit and talk about their families. She tells him about traveling with her uncle and all the places she went. About starting Beauchamp Drugs with his investment and many prayers. He tells her of growing up at Lallybroch. Of his wonderful bossy sister. His steady parents. Murtagh, who is his Godfather and conscious. About his families fears when he announced what he wanted to do and their support.

“So we both started our careers with trepidation and family support.” She lays back, looking up to the sky. He sits beside her looking out over the valley.

“Aye. I am sorry about your family.”

“Thank you. It isn’t easy but I am glad Uncle Lamb got to see me make a good start.”

“Aye. I must confess. I knew what you did. Even have a report from a investigator about what a good druggist you are. Good and patient. Kind.”

“You sent people to investigate me?” she turns her eyes to him.

“Not I.” he is blushing.

“Right. You didn’t know.”

“No. Don’t be angry. They were just looking after me. Had to know you were who you portrayed yourself to be.”

“I am not mad. Intrigued. If I didn’t think it would embarrass you, I would look you up now.”

“Thanks. You probably wouldn’t get a signal anyway.”

She pulls out his phone and sees he is right. A shrug. The camera works though. She snaps some pictures of the beauty that surrounds them before turning it to him. “Do you mind?”

“No. You won’t post it on SM will you?”

“No. Not my style. It is just you are very handsome with the sun reflecting off that wonderful hair.” He grins and pulls the cap off. She snaps a few shots.

“My turn.” He turns his own phone’s camera to her. She leans against the stone by where they had stopped and gives him a big smile. “You are quite beautiful Claire.”

“Thanks but I am sure I will find much beautiful lasses on your arm.”

“No. You won’t. Not in my eyes. None that matches you in inner and outer beauty.” Now she is blushing. “May I see you again Claire?”

“Yes. I didn’t think I would be having more then one date with you. But, I do want to see you again.”

“I thought the same. I am glad we were both wrong. May I give you my number? “

“”You may.” She hands him her phone. He enters it and saves it. “So more hiking?”

“No. I am thinking horse back riding. If that is okay?”

“Perfect. I haven’t in awhile but do know how.” She helps gather up the picnic supplies. “Where?”

“I’ve a mate, John. He has some great riding horses. Private, ye ken.”

“Right. I get that. I only have Sunday’s available. That alright?”

“Perfect.” They start down. He gives her John's address. “Say nine?”

“I will be there.”

“Will I hear from you between now and then?”

“You will. I will text you when I get home. Let you know I made it okay.”

“Thank you.” They are back where they meet. “I am glad you took a chance Claire.”

“I am too. Glad you did too “

He takes her hands and kisses their backs. “Until Sunday.”

“Yes. I will text you. “

“Good. Recall don't believe what Google says about me.”

“I won't.” On impulse, she stands on her toes and kisses his cheek. “Goodbye for now Jamie.”

“Good bye Claire.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #modern au #win a date #first date

6 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 5 years

Text

cocoa

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: mention of puppy mills, dogs, secret-keeping, food mentions, recreational drinking (not to drunkenness) kissing, that’s about it. this one’s mostly fluff, folks.

pairings: moxiety, logince

words: 7,766

notes: bold of you to assume i wouldn’t take the canon dog in gilmore girls WHO WAS ORIGINALLY NAMED COCOA and directly transport it into this verse. picture of the inspiration behind wyliwf!cocoa here as a puppy and here as an adult, btw. she’s a mixed breed, definitely has some chow chow (hence the Fluffy, if u are acquainted w/ mash potato, he is a chow chow) and german shepherd (hence the coloring) along with some other Mystery Breeds in there, so!

thirty-five isn’t exactly a special birthday.

thirty-three, sure, maybe, repeated numbers. thirty? yeah, new decade! but thirty-five—well, it’s just a halfway point, isn’t it? patton doesn’t think there should be much going on in preparation for that. a dinner, a little party/get-together, and patton’d be happy, which he’s told both virgil and logan (and roman, when he wanted an excuse to throw a party.)

so virgil and logan being so evasive over the past couple weeks or so means that patton’s been getting as investigative as logan about what could be going on with the pair of them.

logan, at least, has an excuse—apparently, there was some random, weird deadline for the franklin that logan had run into and had to guide the rest of the staff through—but virgil has just been a little... well, a little strange.

he’s been intent on suddenly patching up the back fence, which he’d been on about when there were rumors of foxes and raccoons getting into trash, but that had been months ago. it seemed like a weird time for this desire to resurface, considering it’s january. there wasn’t really much of a chance of all that when the ground was basically frozen over—patton doesn’t know much about winter habits of foxes and raccoons, but he’s pretty sure they’ve gone for warmer climates, or at least might be sleeping it out.

he’s been reading some kind of articles that he keeps humming at thoughtfully and bookmarking on his phone, patton thinks, except virgil hastily turns off the phone’s screen and turns to smile at patton whenever he tries to peek.

he’s also been furtively ordering things—patton would think it’s birthday presents, except he caught a glance of one of the labels of the boxes and it’s from tiny company that, patton has searched, makes some specialty peanut butter cookies and the like. food is virgil’s thing, he wouldn’t just order it, so maybe patton got the company wrong?

and now...

patton knocks gently on the top of the coffee table, so he doesn’t startle virgil into hitting his head.

“um,” he says. “hey there, honey.”

“hey,” virgil says, forcefully casual.

“can i ask what you’re doing under the coffee table and half under the couch?”

“i, uh,” virgil says, and coughs. “thought i saw something under the couch. cleaning, you know.”

“yeah,” patton says, and settles on the ground. “except you’ve kind of been deep-cleaning the house for the past week.”

“um... yep.”

“i don’t think you could’ve missed something if you’d been trying,” patton says, amused, and reaches out to scratch a little at virgil’s back. the part he can reach, anyway.

“i’m really deep-cleaning,” virgil says.

“i kinda figured.”

“really,” virgil says, “really deep-cleaning.”

patton grins, scratches at virgil’s back again. “did you get whatever was under the couch, then?”

virgil withdraws from the couch, an old piece of paper crumpled up in his hands.

“we should really vacuum under the couches more,” virgil says, and patton leans over to kiss his cheek.

“whatever you say, darling.”

(“how do you feel about dogs?”

virgil glances up from where he’s wiping down the counter—logan, in his chilton blue-and-navy, is sitting at his counter.

“uh, i have generally positive feelings toward dogs?” virgil says. “they’re cute. i’ve never had one. wait, aren’t you supposed to be working at the franklin right now, that random deadline, right?”

ever since logan was told he’d be editor-in-chief of the franklin at the end of his junior year, and now that he’s started his senior year and has been at the helm for over five months, he’s been spending lots long afternoons at the school, deep in the journalism lab, fussing over copy and photos and ap style and page design. virgil’d be worried about him overworking himself, but he knows that mel can, has, and will kick him out if he sticks around for too long, plus dee is there to antagonize him into getting distracted, along with some other chilton friends swinging in and out.

“i made it up,” logan says. “it’s going to be a cover story.”

“a cover story,” virgil repeats slowly. “right. okay. for what?”

logan hesitates, glances around, and says, in a lowered voice to avoid eavesdroppers, “dad’s birthday is in two weeks.”

“right,” virgil says slowly.

“i think we should get him a dog.”

virgil pauses, before he sets aside the rag. “a dog,” he repeats.

“yes,” logan says. “a dog. a canine. canis lupus familiaris.”

“why a dog?” virgil says. “i mean, i know patton wanted one when he was a kid, but, well. your grandparents.”

logan hesitates, just for a moment, before he says, “i’m graduating in may.”

virgil knows this. virgil has had several crises about it. virgil has sat with patton through his various crises about it. virgil could not possibly be more aware that logan is, in fact, about to leave the nest.

“yeah,” he says.

“well,” logan says. “i’d have suggested a cat if he wasn’t allergic, but. he’s been used to taking care of someone or something for all this time. once i’m gone... it just. it might be a good way to cope, that’s all.”

“like the exact reversal of getting a dog to prepare for having kids,” virgil says, starting to get it. “getting a dog to deal with not having a kid around as much anymore.”

“yes. precisely.”

virgil considers this—he considers him and patton in the house, alone. and then he pictures a dog, big, small, medium, resting its head in patton’s lap, patton petting the dog, hugging it. taking the dog for walks and training it—well. it would be hard work. it would be a lot of energy. it’d be a commitment for however long the dog would be alive.

but it would be a comfort, too.

“all right, then. it’s time for me to start researching dogs, i guess.”

“oh, i’ve been researching breeds and training methods and house preparation and shelters in our area for a month now,” logan says briskly, and reaches into his backpack to take out a binder, and virgil really doesn’t know what he’d expected.)

...

(“hey,” virgil says, as logan slides into the passenger’s seat of his car. “how was school?”

“good,” logan says. “i had a pop quiz in latin, i think i did relatively well on it.”

“nice,” virgil says, and pulls out of the parking spot.

this is their second time visiting an animal shelter—they’d dropped by the sideshire one, but realized that they wouldn’t really be able to keep an adoption of an animal secret at home, especially considering that patton sometimes volunteered to walk the dogs there. this time, they were going to a place closer to the city that logan’s research assured them was humane, a nonprofit society, and took part in raids against illegal puppy mills and dog fighting rings—all in all, virgil thought it seemed like a pretty standup shelter.

“okay,” virgil says, as they’re pulling into a parking spot at the shelter. “and we do have a plan for if we find The Dog today, right?”

“they’ll hold a pet for you up to a certain point,” logan says. “i’ve asked mrs. prince and roman, and they said that if we had to bring the dog home earlier than anticipated, they’d be willing to house it.”

virgil nods, absorbing this, and gets out of the car.

“right, then,” virgil says. “let’s go see some dogs.”

they see some dogs. they see a lot of dogs.

they, eventually, see the dog. she’s tiny, and absurdly fluffy, and she eagerly attempts to institute herself in their laps the moment they sit down, demanding pets and treats and love, and she’s too cute for words. she snuffles at them eagerly and wags her tail so hard virgil kind of fears that she’ll fall over to the side, but she’s so energetic she’d probably bound up again immediately, wagging her tail even faster. she’s got big, clumsy paws, and big ears, and a too-long tail, and big, chocolate brown eyes that she’ll probably grow into. when she licks at his chin, he's basically sold immediately.

“virgil,” logan says, in the midst of petting the puppy, examining her temporary plastic collar. “look at her name.”

virgil leans enough to check the little paper sheet full of the information on the outside of the weird room-crate things this shelter’s got going on, and lets out a low whistle.

“right, then,” virgil says. “that’s that.”

“we have a dog,” logan says, with a smile that he hasn’t quite tamped down—virgil realizes, belatedly, this is logan’s first pet outside of the occasional goldfish and smuggled-in-from-the-outdoors frog or turtle, and maybe all the face-licking and snuffling and puppy eyes had sold logan, too.

“we have a dog,” virgil agrees.)

“oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!!!” patton hears roman squealing from where he’s in the kitchen, and patton leans his head out in time to see roman holding logan’s phone and cooing.

“what’s up?” patton says, toting the two bowls of popcorn he’d been in charge of preparing and settling back down on the couch next to virgil, and roman and logan both look up from the phone, roman grinning.

“oh—nothing,” roman says, and passes logan’s phone back to him. “just a cute, um, dance picture thing, s’all.”

“can i see?” patton asks.

“it was a snapchat,” roman says. “faded away after ten seconds.”

“oh, darn,” patton says. “what movie were we going to watch, again?”

“maybe we should watch lassie,” roman says, voice in that faux-innocent tone he’s been using when he’s up to mischief for years, and logan elbows him hard in the side. patton looks to virgil, confused.

“did i miss something?”

“maybe best if you don’t ask,” virgil advises him, and patton nods, taking a handful of popcorn.

...

patton’s decided to take a page from his son’s book and keep notes about things he’s noticed that are Weird, partially because he’s bored and partially because he’s now very interested in whatever’s going on here.

there’s the whole fence thing, as virgil had spent a good chunk of his saturday hauling out his and patton’s shared toolbox and grumbling irritably at the fence as he patches up holes and makes sure nothing can get into the backyard, sometimes retreating back into the house to stick his hands somewhere on patton’s person in order to warm up and drinking tea before he went back out there.

(“does this seem secure enough to hold a puppy?” virgil asks logan, when he comes out to the yard. “i mean, she’s really small, but she probably couldn’t fit through any of these holes, right? plus she’s growing.”

“she’ll be on a leash most of the time, anyway,” logan points out.

“i know, but—”

“virgil. the fence is fine.”)

he’s also hidden a variety of boxes away somewhere, labels that he’ll cover with his hands and say “don’t look don’t look birthday surprise!” which only makes patton want to look even more, and really, patton doesn’t think he’s a person that virgil needs to get several boxes of gifts for, so he’s dying to figure that one out when the time comes.

(“how does a dog require so much stuff?” logan says disbelievingly, sorting through the latest incoming purchase. “is this order just entirely collars?”

“harnesses, too, but she’ll grow out of them!” virgil says. “so we’ll have ones for when she does, i’m planning.”

“you’re going to spoil this dog,” logan says. “you’ve bought her bandanas.”

“look me in the eyes and tell me that patton wouldn’t love to accessorize his dog with bandanas,” virgil says, pointedly ignoring the suspiciously familiar black bandana with purple plaid stitched on with thick white thread that logan shakes at him accusingly.)

the whole deep-cleaning-the-house thing hasn’t stopped, and sure, it’s nice and tidy, but really, there’s only so much deep cleaning you can do before you can pronounce a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house with one bedroom he wouldn’t go into, considering it’s logan’s room, fully clean, right?

(“i know puppies chew on things, but virgil, this is getting ridiculous,” logan says. “you’ve puppy-proofed the entire house at least five times. if she chews on something at this point, she’s to be commended for her creativity.”

“i just want to be sure she doesn’t choke on anything,” virgil says.

“i am positive the puppy won’t chew on old paper,” logan says pointedly. “and even if she does, if it isn’t a huge thing of paper, she’ll be fine.”

“don’t come crying to me when she throws up in your room, then.”)

he keeps going to the town library? sure, virgil’s a reader—not as much as logan, but maybe no one could ever be as much of a reader as logan is—but usually he brings books home and sets them on the bedside table and reads them gradually, over the course of a few days, but a few people have mentioned to him that they’ve seen virgil in the library, he’s reading books there and not at home, though no one’s really seen exactly what he’s reading.

(“what... is that?”

“um. it—apparently, it’s—i read that if we give her a hot water bottle and a ticking clock near her sleeping area, it imitates the heat and heartbeat of her littermates and helps her get acclimated to her environment better, so—so it’s a clock. for her.”

“virgil. you went out and bought a clock. for the dog.”

“okay, look, whose idea was it to get a dog in the first place?!”

“i haven’t bought a clock for the dog!”)

and now—

“babe,” patton says, dragging his fist across his still-sleepy-bleary eyes and settling his glasses on his nose, and virgil jumps before he pivots.

“hey!” virgil says. “i—sorry, did i wake you up?”

“no, just woke up and saw the time and wondered where you were,” patton says. he’d like to be coordinated about his affection, but he is very sleepy, so he just plods over to virgil and, essentially, walks straight into him until virgil wraps his arms around him with a soft laugh.

“sorry,” virgil murmurs, and kisses his temple. “i’ll be right up, i promise.”

patton peeks around his shoulder, and says, “was filling up some kind of new cookie jar really a huge priority, this time of night?”

“i—no,” virgil admits. “i just kind of got into the swing of doing dishes and wiping down the table and i ended up—well. filling up a new cookie jar.”

“i didn’t even know we got a new cookie jar,” patton says.

“surprise,” virgil says. patton reaches forward, intending to steal one of these apparently-good-enough-to-stay-up-past-midnight-for cookies, and virgil quickly closes a hand over patton’s wrist.

“um, probably not a best idea at this time of night,” virgil says. “sugar’ll keep you up.”

“that is a blatant lie,” patton says, and virgil leans down to kiss him again—quick, almost chaste.

“then it’ll be too much of a fuss to brush your teeth again,” virgil says, and sets the lid on the top of the jar before physically turning patton around. “let’s get to bed, yeah?”

“you’re being weird,” patton says, then decides, “i’ll deal with it in the morning.”

except in the morning, like it’s some kind of strange fever dream, the new cookie jar’s gone.

(”why did you decide to fill up the jar with dog treats in the middle of the night,” logan hisses at virgil as virgil’s making breakfast, logan looking for somewhere to hide the jar before patton comes downstairs, and ends up cramming it in the cupboard under the sink.

“it just happened!” virgil says defensively.)

...

the thing about instituting house rules for birthdays is that they tend to get thrown back at you.

“but i can—“

“no,” virgil says, from where he’s double-checking that the streamers will stay up if someone leans against the wall. “house rules. it’s your house, you know them.”

“virgil,” patton grumbles. “you wouldn’t be ruining my birthday if i helped with my decorations—”

“nope,” virgil says. “if i wasn’t allowed to cook on my birthday, you’re not allowed to decorate.”

patton sinks back against the couch with a huff, crossing his arms.

it’s been a very nice birthday, generally speaking. virgil made a massive breakfast, eggs and hashbrowns and bacon and biscuits and chocolate croissants and donuts, and didn’t monitor his hot cocoa/coffee consumption, for once, and logan and roman had swung by for breakfast before swinging out again (“i’m under oath,” roman had said solemnly, when patton asked them what they were up to) and they still haven’t come back, even though the party’s due to start in ten minutes.

once virgil has triple-checked everything, and fetched patton a glass of wine, he tugs patton to his feet and wraps his arms around him, smiling down at him.

“hi,” patton says, not quite able to keep the grudging tone he’d been trying to go for.

“hey,” virgil says. “happy birthday.”

a smile breaks out on patton’s face, even when he’s very sure he’d tried not to let that happen. “you’ve told me that already.”

“and i’ll probably say it again,” virgil says, and he leans down to kiss patton, and kiss him, warm and soft and the best kind of overwhelming, and patton really regrets having to break the kiss in order to breathe, but he very much likes the small, needy, breathless sound that virgil makes when he does.

the doorbell rings, and patton groans, leaning his head against virgil’s chest.

“the timing of whoever’s at the door,” he informs virgil’s sternum, “is terrible.”

virgil snorts and drops a kiss to the top of patton’s head, and patton reluctantly disentangles himself from virgil in order to answer it.

he really should have expected who it is.

“patton,” his father says. “happy birthday.”

“thanks, dad, mom,” patton says, and steps aside so that they can file into his house.

“hi richard, emily,” virgil says. “do you want something to drink?”

“stoli on the rocks with a twist, if you can manage it,” emily says.

“richard? oh, patton, here’s your wine,” virgil adds, pushing the glass into his hands again.

richard requests scotch.

“i can—”

“absolutely not,” virgil says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “stay out here in case anyone comes to the door, yeah?”

patton sighs, and does.

the party fills up in waves—isadora and emily are engaging in some kind of silent stare-off in the corner as richard has, once again, escaped from a party with a magazine in hand—and soon enough, patton’s busy entertaining people and making the rounds. it fills up so slowly that patton almost doesn’t notice until he ducks back into the kitchen to check on virgil, how chaotic it is, how it’s just a bit too noisy—he thinks that most of the inn’s employees have shown up, as well as his friends and neighbors from throughout sideshire.

and when he gets into the kitchen, the quiet nearly overwhelms him. patton has to lean against a counter and let out a slow breath when it hits him.

virgil glances up from where he’s been topping off some snack bowls, and sets them aside.

“hey there,” he says, and drops a kiss on top of patton’s head—patton’s cheeks flush, feeling warmer than he already is, and he beams up at him.

“hi,” patton says.

“having fun?”

"mhm,” patton says, and winds his arms around virgil. “missing my fella, though.”

virgil smiles down at him, soft, and brushes a curl off his forehead.

“i have had,” patton informs him, “some wine.”

virgil’s grin grows a bit more wry. “that so?”

“i haven’t caught anyone at it, but someone keeps filling up my glass and i suspect remy,” patton says.

“yeah, he would,” virgil grumbles.

“i’ll understand what’s going on between you two someday,” patton says—the slightly-joking-but-not-really rivalry between them has bemused patton for years now.

virgil snorts, once. patton’s about to poke fun at him a bit more, but there’s the chime of a text message, and virgil digs his phone out of his pocket.

“it’s logan,” he says. “i’m just gonna make sure that he’s got your surprise all set.”

“it has to be brought into the house?” patton says, and blinks up at him. “but what about all those boxes?”

“you’ll see,” virgil says, and twines his fingers with patton’s, tugging him out into the living room. patton gets parked soundly on the couch.

“wait here.”

“for my surprise?”

“for your surprise,” virgil confirms, and patton squeezes virgil’s hand tight before he lets him go.

“a surprise?” dot, his neighbor, asks.

“in five or so minutes,” patton says. “or, whenever virgil and logan come back, i guess.”

“oh, the surprise,” babette says, and winks at morey—neither of them holding cinnamon, which is strange, considering their cat comes with them everywhere. “morey, the surprise is coming.”

“you know what it is?”

“know what what is?” sookie asks, looking up from the tray of canapés she’s brought and is still experimenting with.

patton’s distantly aware that other people are disrupting their own conversations in order to turn attention to his, but he can’t really care right now.

“my birthday surprise,” patton tells sookie. “virgil’s been acting weird for the past couple weeks, and apparently all the investigative skills in the family went to logan, because i’ve been trying to figure it out and i’ve got zilch.”

“well, it is a surprise,” sookie says reasonably.

“babs?”

“sorry, sugar,” babette says, and patton sighs. just a little.

“well, i’ll find out soon, i guess,” patton says.

...

“hey,” virgil says.

“hello,” logan says, holding tight to the leash; the puppy is teething at the leash, too, still attempting to walk forward even though logan’s come to a stop.

“hi,” roman adds, holding the box that virgil had gotten specifically for this.

there’s a bit of weight on virgil’s shoe—the puppy’s come forward, set her little paws on his boots, and is sniffing eagerly at his jeans.

“hi,” virgil says (he does not coo) and leans down to pet her, scratching behind her ears, before he glances up to see roman grinning at him.

virgil coughs, and says, gruff, “here, give me the leash, i can get her ready for the surprise.”

logan hands over the leash, and roman sets down the box, before he digs out—

“seriously?”

“if you’re getting a dog as a birthday present, you have to put a bow around her neck, it’s practically the law,” roman says. virgil sighs and snatches it away.

“fine, fine,” he says. “go inside, text me when everything’s all set.”

roman takes logan’s hand, and logan pulls him toward the house; there’s a swell of music as the front door opens, then closes.

“okay,” virgil tells the dog. “um. so, you’re about to meet patton.”

the puppy continues to chew at her leash, still looking at him with her chocolate brown eyes.

“patton’s the best,” he tells her. “and he’s gonna love you, and we’re—you know. we’re gonna take care of you, and—and we’ve never taken care of a dog before, but we managed to raise a kid okay, and you’ve never lived with humans before, so we’re both new at this. we’ll do the best we can. okay?”

the dog tilts her head.

“i’m talking to a puppy,” virgil mutters, and shakes his head. “right, then. let’s get you all set.”

he puts the puppy into the box—it’s got a lid and a box, both separately wrapped, it has a blanket in the bottom, and cut-out handles so that virgil can carry her, and so that she gets air—and carefully removes her leash.

“comfy?” he asks.

she sits.

“good girl,” he murmurs, because reinforcing praise is important, and pets her for a bit. he looks at the bow roman had given him—big and red, of course—before he carefully ties it to her collar. she attempts to nip at it, before virgil wiggles his fingers in front of her face, distracting her.

“okay,” virgil says. “we can just sit here and wait until logan or roman texts us, yeah? and i can just keep petting you.”

so he does—at once point, virgil’s practically in the box with her because it turns out the puppy very much likes belly rubs, but it also turns out that fingers are, potentially, the best teething tool of all time (virgil is familiar with this, but it’s been about sixteen or so years since logan’s needed to chew at his fingers) so she is very conflicted between letting virgil scratch her belly and chewing at virgil’s fingers.

virgil’s phone buzzes, and virgil removes a hand in order to check—logan’s said He’s ready—and leans in to peek at the puppy.

“okay,” he says. “i’m gonna put the lid on, and i’m gonna carry you around for a little, but you’ll be out of the box soon, okay? and you’ll meet patton, who i’m sure will spoil you rotten and pet you until you’re sick of it.”

she wags her tail.

“cool,” virgil says, and carefully sets the lid on the box, and even more carefully picks up the box, making sure that the box stays level.

before he has to consider how he’s going to hold this (frankly kind of absurdly too big) box and open the door, roman opens the door for him, grinning. also, he’s holding his phone horizontally, which means he’s definitely recording this.

patton’s smiling, but there’s a curious glint in his eyes as virgil shuffles slowly forward, very conscious of the tiny little puppy in the box that he doesn’t want to jostle.

the people at the party have also ringed around the room—babette and morey, who have remembered not to bring cinnamon, since he doesn’t know how the puppy will react to a cat, dot and larry, sookie and michel, and emily has somehow managed to pull richard away from his magazine, among everyone else—watching as virgil carefully sets the box at patton’s feet.

"logan just told me that the deadline was a cover story,” patton tells virgil. “you’re in trouble.”

virgil grins. “all of this was logan’s idea in the first place, actually. i thought it was a real deadline too until he brought me in on it.”

patton huffs, put-upon. “well,” he says airily, and elbows logan jokingly, “this better be a good surprise, then.”

“open it and see,” virgil says.

patton leans forward, and begins to pry off the lid. virgil waits with bated breath.

as soon as he gets the lid off and seems to catch a glimpse of what’s inside, patton squeals in shock, jerking away from the box, and for a second virgil thinks they’ve horribly miscalculated and patton’s actually afraid of dogs, but that’s before he leans right back forward again and reaches down to pet the puppy.

“hi,” patton croons, and then he starts to giggle—before he puts his hands over his face, before he peeks out again, like he was checking to be sure that the puppy wasn’t a hallucination and that she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he took his eyes off her. and then he looks at virgil, eyes bright and eager and excited, laughing the whole time.

“is this real?!” patton demands between giggles.

“of course it’s real,” logan says, and patton puts his hands over his face for a second, before leaning back forward and reaching down to pet the dog.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” patton repeats, and, with a jolt, virgil realizes that he’s crying, and patton meets eyes with him, beaming hugely, and virgil feels some kind of unnameable emotion swell up in his chest—the closest he can get to identifying it is joy.

“hello,” patton repeats to the puppy, then, to virgil, “can i hold it?”

“do whatever you want, she’s your dog,” virgil points out, unable to stop his own smile.

“she’s a girl?”

“she’s a girl,” logan confirms, “ten weeks old,” and patton carefully reaches in, still giggling all the while, and carefully hoists the dog into his lap, therefore bringing the dog into the view of the rest of the room, which makes a variety of gasping, cooing noises that are really exactly what a surprise puppy deserves.

“oh my gosh,” patton repeats, and giggles even louder when the puppy sniffs at his face, and licks the tears off his cheeks. “oh, my gosh, hi there, sweetheart!”

the puppy squirms, and patton adjusts his grip, staring.

“she’s so fluffy,” he says in awe. “oh, my gosh, she’s like a teddy bear, look at how fluffy she is!”

the puppy is, indeed, very fluffy, and very stuffed-animal-esque in her adorable-ness, and patton sniffles, burying his face in her fur, just for a moment. the puppy wiggles a little, in order to keep licking and sniffing at patton, so patton resurfaces after a few seconds, crying harder than ever.

patton’s grinning, so virgil’s pretty sure he’s crying because he’s happy, but he wants to be sure, so—

“do you like her?” virgil asks hesitantly.

“i love her,” patton sobs, and virgil climbs onto the couch, so that he can wrap an arm around patton’s shoulders and kiss him on the cheek.

“i can’t believe you got me a puppy,” patton chokes out, and sniffles noisily, before pressing a kiss to the puppy’s forehead and settling her on his lap.

“logan, technically, campaigned for you to get a puppy, i was just the one who was legally able to adopt her,” virgil says, and patton turns to logan, smiling.

“you should check her collar,” logan suggests, before patton can get any more emotional than he already is.

“her collar?” patton says.

“her name,” virgil elaborates. “which the shelter gave her and you can change it, if you want to, but—”

“you won’t want to,” logan says.

patton adjusts the bow, and takes hold of the little temporary tag virgil’s gotten her, before they can register her with the vet near sideshire and make sure that they’ve got record of all her shots and the fact that she’s been spayed and microchip her so on, and takes a moment to read it. his jaw drops.

“no way,” he says.

“way,” virgil says.

“her name is cocoa?” patton gasps. “that’s perfect!”

“told you,” logan murmurs.

“hi, cocoa!” patton croons to the puppy, holding her up in a way that’s vaguely reminiscent of lion king, except it’s at face-level and looking toward him. “hi there, my sweet girl! are you cocoa? i think you are!”

cocoa wriggles in protest, attempting to lean forward and lick patton’s face, and patton holds her tight in his arms, face just glowing, and yeah, wow, this was an amazing idea, go logan.

“so you’re definitely okay with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton laughs, leaning forward to kiss him, the puppy attempting to free herself from between them, and it’s one of those amazing, perfect moments that virgil will keep with him forever, not to sound sappy or anything.

the party’s basically permanently derailed, after that.

people approach the puppy in groups, which means that virgil learns a bit more about cocoa: she likes fetch, but only for one or two throws before she gets distracted by something else. she really likes it when you scratch her neck, under her collar, because her back leg starts doing that thumping thing that dogs do when you’ve hit the sweet spot. she likes to play tug of war, which is normal, but she grabs onto pant legs with her teeth and clings even as she gets dragged around the room, so they’ll have to train her out of that.

he also hasn’t really been able to seen her walk around a room, but since she’s got stubby little puppy legs and too-big paws that she needs to grow into, she practically waddles, which is both hilarious and adorable, and virgil witnesses her trip over her paws a couple times, which is cute, even if his heart stops and he half-lunges toward her in the time that it takes for her to re-establish her balance, tail wagging, and continue happily toddling along her intended path.

patton’s attention to most of the rest of the party is lost, too, since he keeps sitting on the floor and playing with the puppy, following her from group to group and randomly bursting into giggles at the sight of her doing something even slightly adorable, which, considering she is a very cute dog, is very often. he occasionally leans down to scoop her up into her arms and kiss her, which, well, virgil remembers him doing something similar with logan when logan was first able to walk reliably enough but still stumbling every few steps, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised.

patton is also half the reason the puppy is getting introduced to everyone. case in point:

“this is your grand-dog,” patton tells emily cheerfully, holding cocoa out in a way that emily would be able to take him. “you can hold her, she’s very light and very soft and very fluffy.”

emily looks like she’s about to decline the offer, like she doesn’t want cocoa to shed all over her fancy skirtsuit, before she sees virgil mouthing hold the goddamn dog behind patton’s head. she sighs, but she holds the dog, in a way that clearly denotes that she has never held a dog before—hands under cocoa’s armpits, letting her legs dangle in the air.

she stares at cocoa. cocoa stares at her, legs paddling in the air.

“you can hold her like a baby,” patton says helpfully, “that’s okay too” and emily adjusts her grip accordingly.

and then she just. holds the dog. she doesn’t pet cocoa or anything. she’s just holding cocoa like a baby.

“isn’t she cute?!” patton says happily.

“...certainly,” emily says stiffly.

“i love her,” patton says.

“hmph,” she says, “well,” and passes cocoa back to patton, before she swipes her hands across her jacket, attempting to discard the fur.

“i’m gonna introduce her to dad,” patton says happily, and goes off to find richard as emily continues to sweep her hands across her shirt.

virgil digs the lint roller out of his hoodie, and holds it out.

"ah,” she says.

she brushes it along, and, once she’s satisfied, she moves to hand it back, before she pauses.

“where did you get this dog?” she asks suspiciously, as if virgil has specifically gotten a flea-infested rabid dog for the sole purpose of getting her to hold it, so it can infect her.

“a shelter,” virgil says.

“which one?” she says. “is it reputable?”

“you were on their donor wall,” virgil says, non-chalant. “so i’d sure hope so.”

she pulls a face at him—well, the emily equivalent of pulling a face. so, virgil one, emily zip.

“what breed is she?”

“german shepherd, chow mix,” virgil says mildly. “there’s some other breeds in there too, we think, but—”

“you should have gone to a breeder.”

“she was a rescue from a puppy mill,” virgil says, even more mildly, “so—“

emily sighs, long and irritated, before she says doubtfully, “it was logan’s idea to get a dog.”

“yep, it was,” virgil says.

“why would logan suggest a dog?” emily says, and virgil glances around—richard is holding the dog slightly better, and tilting his head at it with the same curiosity that he does at a headline about “the youths.”

“he’s worried about patton empty-nesting in the fall,” virgil says. “he wanted to be sure that patton still had something to take care of, so. dog.”

“and that was logan’s idea,” she says. “not yours.”

“...yeah,” virgil says.

“you must have had some other idea for patton’s birthday,” she says, as if doubting that virgil has not masterminded the whole dog plot and cocoa will eventually be trained into a vicious attack dog that specifically goes for white people in the upper tax bracket, or something, as if she is not currently chasing a ball tossed by richard, and then she slides and wipes out in a hilarious fashion before scrambling back onto her paws, tail wagging, panting eagerly, looking like the clumsiest and least threatening dog that had ever lived.

and virgil thinks about the jewelry stores he’s got listed in his private notes, the inspiration rings he’s got saved in about seven randomly named, nested folders on his password-protected laptop that you can’t find without searching for it specifically, the budget that he’s already schemed out, the various ideas that he’ll probably ask logan to help fine-tune, and he shrugs.

“nothing that can’t wait.”

...

patton’s still kind of in shock, but, like, the best kind of shock.

because. he has a dog. he has a dog!!! the surprise is a puppy!

she’s adorable! patton loves her already! whenever he looks at her it feels like his heart is made of melty gooey marshmallows!

“no cocoa baby don’t eat that,” patton says, gently removing a piece of wrapping paper from her mouth. she attempts to follow it, despite the fact that he puts it out of her reach, and he puts a dog toy (virgil has been pulling out absurd amounts of dog supplies from every hidden nook and cranny in the house since the party ended) in her line of sight instead, squeaking it. cocoa takes that instead, lying down with a little thump, gnawing it at it.

“so, the way i get you to follow your own house rules is to give you a puppy,” virgil says, amused, picking up the wrapping paper and putting it in the trash bag that he’s filling with trash from the party, “got it.”

patton grins up at him sheepishly. “i could help if you—”

“nope,” virgil says, “absolutely not,” and runs his fingers through patton’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp, before he goes to sweep the coffee table of discarded paper plates and napkins.

“god, she’s so cute,” roman gushes, from where he and logan are sitting across from patton, the three of them kind of boxing cocoa in, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “i love her floppy little ears, and her big ol’ eyes, and her fluffy perfect face—”

“she is an aesthetically pleasing dog,” logan agrees.

she is. she’s varying shades of brown, fawn and chocolate and chestnut and coffee and taupe, with a splash of white on her chest. her ears are a gradient of the varying shades of brown, and her snout is the same dark color as the edges of her ears. her fluff levels are truly off the charts, and she has pink little beans for toes, and her eyes are so soulful that patton’s genuinely going to get beaten out in the “best-puppy-dog-eyes-in-the-house” competition, though he passively wonders if she still counts considering she is a puppy dog, but—

“jeez, logan, you don’t have to be so sentimental about it,” roman teases.

cocoa squeaks her toy in agreement. it’s shaped like a mallard, with a goofy, cartoonish grin on its bill.

gradually, naturally, the conversation dies down, and they’re all left in a companionable silence, except for the occasional murmur of “you comfy?” between his son and his son’s boyfriend, and patton softly entreating cocoa with a variety of pet-centric nicknames that he can barely make sense of—sweet girl, fuzzyface, sugarbun, marshmallow, kissyface—and eventually, cocoa flops onto her side and snoozes with a variety of tiny puppy snoring noises, and patton’s heart’s so full it feels like it might burst.

and once the house is relatively clean (a bit impossible to be fully clean, with the clutter that’s so ingrained into the house it’s practically a piece of furniture, patton barely notices it anymore) virgil settles onto the ground with patton with a soft huff, and briefly leans his head against patton’s shoulder, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“good birthday?”

“amazing birthday,” patton corrects. “fantastic birthday. really spectacular birthday.”

virgil smiles, just a little. “good.” a pause, and then, “late, though.”

patton stifles his smile—virgil fussing about food and caffeine intake and about his sleep schedule has really been happening for as long as they’ve known each other. “you’re right,” he agrees. “i—d’you think cocoa needs to go out?”

“probably,” virgil agrees. “i’ll go with you.”

patton nods, and reaches out to scoop cocoa into his arms—she stirs a little, before settling in his arms just like a slumbering baby, and okay, patton might cry a little, she’s so cute?!

“remember to sleep out in the living room,” patton reminds. “don’t stay up too late, kids.”

he gets “we won’ts” that he’s not sure how close they’ll stick to, and a “happy birthday” from roman and a hug from his son, as virgil trails him toward the backyard. patton descends the patio steps, before he carefully places cocoa, paw-first, onto the grass. she folds herself up and it seems like she’s content to continue sleeping in the grass.

“no,” patton scolds, in a half-laugh, putting her on her paws again. “c’mon, puppy, do your business, and then you can sleep for as long as you want.”

cocoa seems to sigh, before she toddles forward a few steps, nose firmly stuck to the grass to sniff and investigate, and arms come around patton’s waist. patton smiles, leaning back into the warmth of it—january birthdays meant sometimes white birthdays, which were cool, but the cold was just something else—tilting his chin a little, and virgil obligingly presses a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re seriously good with the surprise pet,” virgil checks, and patton huffs a laugh, leaning back against virgil’s chest and securing his grip on virgil’s wrists, to keep him there.

“i’m seriously good with the surprise pet,” patton promises, and he feels virgil’s warm breath of relief against his ear.

“okay, cool,” virgil says, and admits, “i figured you probably would be cool with a dog, generally, since you walk dogs at the shelter a lot, but—”

“i love her,” patton says, leaning a little to see virgil’s face. “thank you.”

virgil flushes, and patton doesn’t think it’s just because of the cold.

“it was logan’s idea,” he mumbles.

“i know,” patton says, and then, “did he tell you why?”

virgil hesitates, before he shrugs. “empty-nesting,” he says.

“ah,” patton says quietly.

the fact that his baby is going to college has been on his mind every single day, since logan first got back his test scores and started sketching out plans at the kitchen table. patton’s been with him to visit a few colleges, and he’s—well, kids grow up, right? that’s what they’re supposed to do.

it doesn’t mean that the idea doesn’t make patton sad and anxious and really eager for some way to slow down time, too.

patton shakes himself, and says, “his idea, huh?”

“yep.”

patton starts to smile again, and he says, “i bet it wasn’t his idea to get her specialty peanut-butter treats, though.”

“...no.”

“or a ton of bandanas for her to wear. including a custom one that looks like your hoodie.”

“...well—”

“or the tons of harnesses and collars, or the big bed that we aren’t fully sure she’ll grow into, or all the toys, or—”

“i get it, i get it,” virgil grumbles. patton leans up to peck a quick kiss to his lips, turning more fully in his arms and wrapping his arms around virgil’s neck.

“i love that about you,” he says.

“what?” virgil says.

“you’re a carer,” patton says. “you’re all gruff and grumbly on the outside, but if you see someone who needs help or needs to be taken care of, you’re all like, oh yes, of course, here’s this friends and family discount, what do you mean it’s brand new, this has always been here, or inviting them to your family’s christmas, or helping take care of their son, or offering couches to crash on and shoulders to cry on.”

patton pauses, and allows, smiling, “or cleaning up the house to make sure that they won’t find anything they’ll accidentally choke on, or patching up the fence so she can’t get out and nothing can get in, or doing secret research at the town library.”

and virgil’s flush definitely isn’t from the cold. virgil swallows, and says, in a voice that’s just a little bit shy and quiet, “it’s your birthday.”

“i know,” patton says simply. “i’m allowed to be sappy on my birthday.”

“course you are,” virgil says, and patton leans up to kiss him, before he turns back to squint out at the lawn. or at least, he means to.

because virgil’s fingers around his wrist prevent him from doing that, and before patton can ask, virgil’s bending just a little to press their lips together, cupping his face between both of his hands, and patton feels his heart do that happy little flutter it always seems to do around virgil. patton sighs, and if his eyes weren’t closed—when had he done that?—he’d be sure that it’d be a puff of steam in the cold air. virgil takes advantage of it, pressing in, so overwhelming but so gentle and patton can only wrap his arms around virgil’s neck and hang on tight.

when they part, patton blinks up at him, dizzy and dazed in the best kind of way.

“what was that for?”

“i’m allowed to kiss you on your birthday,” virgil teases him, smirking just a bit, and patton grins right back, hoping it looks as full of promise as he wants it to be. he leans in to kiss him again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of soft snuffling at their feet, and they both glance down.

cocoa’s staring up at them with an expression she could have gotten straight from logan—like, really, dads?

“okay, okay,” patton allows with a slight laugh, bending to pick her up again. “good girl, we get it, we can go back inside.”

virgil does lean in and give him a kiss over cocoa’s head, though, and patton beams at him with his arms full of fluffy, ten-week-old dog.

they climb the stairs, and virgil moves to the closet, and patton collapses onto the bed, letting cocoa down. she paces a few circles, before she curls up into a cozy-looking ball.

virgil glances back, and says, “patton.”

“what?” patton says innocently, sitting on the bed beside cocoa.

“if we want her to sleep in her actual bed, we have to start training her early,” virgil says.

“she’ll be lonely,” patton points out.

“i specifically bought her a hot water bottle and a clock to make sure that wouldn’t happen,” virgil says.

“um—?”

“hot water bottle to simulate warmth and clock to simulate the heartbeat of her littermates, to help her adjust,” he explains, and yeah, wow, patton adores him.

“virgil, i hate to point out the obvious,” patton says, grinning, “but i happen to know two people who get pretty warm in their sleep and who both happen to have heartbeats.”

virgil hesitates.

“just for tonight?” patton says, pouting just a little. “for my birthday.”

virgil sighs. “i know what you’re doing,” he grumbles.

“you can think about it,” patton says, and gets up to tug lightly at virgil’s hand. “we can do some other stuff, first.”

virgil’s eyes start to get that dark, familiar gleam that makes a secret, almost illicit-feeling thrill shoot down patton’s spine.

but later, when they both slide under the covers that night, freshly showered and fully intent on going straight to sleep this time, virgil makes no noises of protest about the cuddly ball of fluff that’s nuzzled her way between their bellies, and even when her tiny paws dig into their stomachs in her sleep, and she wakes them up when she adjusts, and they both have to contort into awkward positions rather than wake the dog and move her, virgil doesn’t make a noise of protest.

she never really ends up trained to sleep in her own bed at night, either.

#my post #text #the sideshire files #my fic #Two Fics In One Day Babyyyyyy

69 notes · View notes

marvel-lucy · 4 years

Text

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 19

This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I wrote a three chapter postscript. Look, it was my first fic, I was young and didn’t know what I was doing. Forgive me.

Weeks later, and a new routine, a new life, had been established. I still met with Sam sometimes to talk things through when I could feel my anxieties building, but I also had others to talk to now. I worked out, I’d started helping Bruce out a bit in the lab and even started studying, trying to catch up on all those years of missed education. Tony called me Professor Molesworth when he saw me sat in the library surrounded by books, but he also sat with me for hours and taught me maths and science. I spent a lot of time with Bucky. Not always talking, or doing anything. I’d sit and study, feet in his lap, he’d read, occasionally we’d look up at each other and smile. We trained together too, both enhanced and a match for each other and the physical tiredness was great. We were almost inseparable – Tony called up Supertwins – both liking the fact there was someone there who understood without explanation, when at times the anger or the fear returned. We started trying to catch up on movies we’d both missed and insisted on more movie nights. We drank a lot of beer and sometimes slept in each other’s arms when the bad dreams came. Things got easier, and I got happy, which is why it was hard when I felt that something was wrong.

I was aware that people were whispering in corners, or stopping talking when I walked into the room. I tried to pass it off as paranoia when silence fell if I came in but it wasn’t. I could feel the old anxieties resurfacing, about my place here, my place in the world, but Sam dismissed them when I tried to talk to him, just repeating that I was wanted here.

I turned to Nat in the end, knowing that she was usually straightforward and honest but I still didn’t get an answer I trusted. She told me that Tony was organising another one of his dinner parties and it was nothing to worry about, that it was just guest lists and menus. She must have seen the disbelief on my face, but reassured me again, saying that people just didn’t want to worry me after the last time, telling me that at least this time Loki wasn’t invited.

Nat said I needed a distraction and so the next day she and Wanda appeared at my door and told me they were taking me out for the day. My agoraphobia had stayed away since I’d got back in the tower, although I didn’t particularly like crowds and felt a bit vulnerable away from walls, but I could live with it. I tried going out at least a few times a week, to practice being out in the real world, and to join in with everything I’d missed, but other than a few trips to the zoo, I was still happier in the Tower.

I didn’t know what Wanda and Nat had planned but when they pulled me into a fancy looking dress store, I groaned. They knew I had zero interest in clothes, we’d been through this before, so I resigned myself to a morning where they tried things on and I nodded and pretended to be able to see a difference between this black dress and that black dress. No such luck.

“Stark likes fancy for his dinner parties, you know that from before.” Nat said, adding “and last time, I lent you a dress and you ended up sleeping in it then wearing it in the shower, if I recall correctly”. I blushed, remembering how hungover I’d been and how I’d felt about Bucky. Wanda was grabbing dresses off the rails and suddenly they were both pulling me into a changing room and started stripping off my clothes. I shrieked, batting their hands away but they insisted I try on dress after dress. While Wanda and Nat inspected me, I stood awkwardly, repeating ‘too tight, too revealing, too bright...’ about most of the dresses until Nat asked me if I was sure I wasn’t actually born in the 20s, because I was acting like an old woman.

After a while, they let me get dressed again and told me they’d choose for me. It was at that point that I realised I had no money. Embarrassed, I pulled them both aside and tried to explain.

“Guys, I don’t actually have money, I mean, I’ve got a few dollars but, I mean, I probably got an allowance when I was 14 but it’s not like I actually have a job or anything now”. They both looked at me and laughed, leaving me blushing heavily.

“You know you have a Stark Card, right?” I must have looked blank. “Nobody gave you one? Ah, we’ll get Jarvis on it when we’re back. You charge whatever you want to your Stark Card, Tony takes care of it. It’s ‘wages’ for being an Avenger. That, and for putting up with Tony. Look, don’t worry about it, it’s all sorted anyway, and Wanda’s already charged it. And no, before you start worrying, you don’t need to feel guilty about it or anything. Stark has enough money for ten times as many Avengers, and I can’t see you being the type to suddenly start buying islands.” I saw that Wanda was now carrying a big bag although I hadn’t had any input into what they’d bought, so I hoped to god it wasn’t the red one they’d been discussing.

Net they dragged me into shoe shops, where at least the fact I was physically well trained made walking in heels possible, if not something I saw any point in. They made me have another haircut, my hair now reaching my shoulders and all the bald patches long gone, then they finally let us go back to the Tower.

“Right, go have a shower Ruby, we’ll leave your stuff in your room for the dinner tonight” Wanda said, shooing me off as I tried to go and get some coffee from the kitchen. I complained, and she told me to go shower and that she’d bring me coffee. I was sticky from the heat so gave in.

When I came out of the shower, the parcels they’d bought were on the bed, and a cup of coffee was on the side. I breathed in the smell, holding the cup against me as I started to look through the bags. Oh hell no, the dress was red. It was the one that I’d rejected as tight, bright, low cut, too noticeable, not me, laughable. Was this some kind of joke? I unwrapped the other parcels, shoes, underwear, make up, but I was not in the mood. I’d wear something else, and take the dress back tomorrow.

Cross, I put my coffee down and went to the closet, flinging the doors open. It was empty. What the hell? I pulled open drawers, nothing. Through gritted teeth, I opened my door and stormed down to Nat’s room in my robe. She was in there with Wanda and they were obviously both expecting me.

“Hey, not dressed yet, you might want to hurry up a bit” Nat grinned.

“Where. Are. My. Clothes” I scowled at them both as they sniggered at me, and Wanda replied, wide eyed and innocent, that they’d left them on my bed. “Not those ones. Come on guys, you know I can’t wear that dress, I’ll look ridiculous and I’ll feel stupid. Just let me have some normal stuff OK?”

Nat got up and pushed me out of the room. “Not a chance. Go put that on or I will get Bucky to come down and knock you out, and dress you myself”. With Nat, you never could tell when she was serious.

I stomped back to my room and held the dress up, groaning. I put it on but I felt stupid. Like a kid trying to look like an adult. I knew I was sulking but I couldn’t stop myself. I just hoped this dinner of Tony’s wasn’t going to involve too many people.

A few minutes later Wanda and Nat both appeared and nodded approvingly to see I was dressed. They approached me threateningly with makeup brushes and did…. stuff…. to my face. Not much luckily, the serum at least meant I had good skin despite the fact I didn’t do anything with it. Nat handed me my shoes and when I put them on, whistled at me.

“Well damn it Ruby if you don’t look sexy as hell” she winked and I rolled my eyes, stomach churning with dread at the teasing I was going to get for trying to look like this.

Wanda called ‘I’ll see you up there’ and left, and Nat took hold of my hands.

“Hey, Ruby, I mean it. You look great, stop worrying. Remember the last dinner, it was fun right?” I nodded. I had been fun in the end. “Good. Come on then, I’m starving plus I look damn good and want to get some appreciation too” she grinned.

We got into the elevator and I expected Jarvis to drop us at the usual level, where the kitchen and communal spaces were. Instead, the doors opened onto the lobby of the function rooms, a beautiful space Tony used for presentations and his gala dinners.

“Wrong floor?” I questioned, but Nat nudged me forward and towards the door. I pulled it open and stepped in.

And ‘SURPRISE!’. My heart raced and if it wasn’t for Nat behind me with a steadying hand, I’d have either turned and run, or else gone straight into attack mode. ‘Happy birthday’ she whispered in my ear, grinning at the success of their plan.

The room was full, all faces I recognised and I was surprised by just how many people it seemed I knew, but it was pretty overwhelming. I hadn’t made it out of the doorway yet, so Nat propelled me forwards as I gaped. Tony was the first to come over, with Pepper. He hugged me and told me not to let Pepper see how beautiful I was or she might feel threatened. Pepper slapped him on the arm and hugged me, wishing me a happy birthday. More and more people drifted over – Steve, Bruce, Sam – all to hug me and grin at the success of their plan. Sam, like Nat, whistled.

“Damn but you look a hell of a lot better than when we fished you out of that Hydra cell” he grinned. “If I didn’t know you already had your eye on someone, I would be trying my very best here”. I knew he was joking – everyone was too polite to tell me how stupid I looked – but I blushed when he said I had my eye on someone. He didn’t know how I felt surely, about Bucky. I wasn’t even sure I knew how I felt.

“I didn’t even know it was my birthday” I said, changing the subject, and Bruce laughed, kissing my cheek.

“21 today!” he said, as Tony added “now we can get you drunk legally, and I’m still determined to get you to try karaoke”.

There were balloons everywhere, damn it, who knew how much I loved balloons? They'd gone to town with them, the floor was full and the kids who belonged to staff in the Tower were having a whale of a time diving into them. I'd have joined them, but apparently I was an adult now? God I loved balloons though. I grinned around the room as I took it all in. Flowers, tables groaning with food and drink, and faces smiling at me all over. Yes, it was overwhelming, but my heart felt full.

I was surrounded for a few more minutes, as people I’d met once or twice before came over, obviously having been kept up to speed with what was going on, Coulson, Lang, Hill, even Fury came over and wished me a happy birthday and an official welcome to the team. I was swamped for a while, then people gradually went back to their conversations and to the food and music. I tried not to show I was looking around but I hadn’t seen Bucky yet and I was disappointed he wasn’t here. As the crowd cleared, and Nat wandered off with Clint to find a drink, I felt a cold hand on the back of my dress. I turned, and Bucky was smiling down at me.

“Wanted to wait until everyone had left you alone” he said. I felt anchored now that he was here. Anchored and something else. Something I’d been trying to ignore for a while but was sure of now I saw him, cleaned up and suited and looking amazing. He leant down and kissed my cheek and I breathed in his smell, dizzying my overloaded senses.

“Happy birthday doll” he whispered against my cheek, his hand tightening on my waist and pulling me into him. I hugged him back and then he stepped back to arm’s length and eyed me up and down.

“Jeez…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’ve got to do this right.” He looked into my eyes. “You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room, and in fact the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. Always thought so but damn that dress just brings it home”. By now my face was as scarlet as my dress. Bucky moved his metal hand up to my cheek, blissfully cold against my flushed skin. “No need to blush, it’s all true, just own it” he grinned, switching to the other cheek. “It’d be an honour to have you on my arm tonight ma’am” he said with an old school charm, and I grinned, hooking my arm over his as we headed to get drinks and food.

It was a great party. People were kind and welcoming and I felt accepted. I drank quite a bit, giddy with a relieved happiness that my paranoia wasn’t justified; giddy with excitement every time Bucky put his arm around me while I was talking to someone, or stood close to my side so I could feel his warmth. Part way through the evening, going to the bathroom, I bumped into Natasha.

“Having a good time?” she asked and I nodded.

“Thanks Nat. For everything”. I’d been thanking people all evening for kindnesses, for presents, for support, it as becoming almost a running joke but I felt insanely grateful and underserving still.

“You’ve already done the thanks bit Ruby. No more! You’re knocking them out in that dress, knew you would” she smiled. “It’s not unnoticed whose eyes can’t leave you tonight, doesn’t take a spy to see something as obvious as the torch Bucky is carrying for you.”

“Bucky’s my best friend Nat. He’s looking out for me because he knows I find crowds difficult. That’s all.” I asserted, and she scoffed, taking a sip from her drink.

“Ruby, take it from someone who knows. Bucky has been into you since you got here. Now that he’s seen you in that dress, he’s got it even worse”. She smiled at me and said “it’s cute” as I rolled my eyes, then she was off, pulling Clint out to dance while he protested, until she pushed up agapist him and he stopped.

By around 2am, most people had gone off to the guest rooms Tony had provided. Clint and Nat were still wrapped around each other and dancing; Sam and Steve were stretched out on couches near the bar, beers in hand. Tony and Pepper were talking to a group of friends about to leave. I was sitting a little tipsily by the door, waiting for Bucky with some water for us both.

He brought it over and I drank it down, keen to avoid the hangover I’d had last time. Bucky took the glass from me and put it down, then held his hand out.

“Dance?” he asked and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wouldn’t know how Bucky, and I’m probably a bit unsteady on my feet anyway”. Without speaking, he bent down and took my shoes off, leaving my feet against the cool floor.

“Come on doll. I wanna dance with you. You can’t fall off those shoes now, and I’ll hold you up.”

The music was slower and quieter now as he pulled me away from the edge of the room, but avoiding the centre, staying where the light was dimmer. He pulled me in close to him, one arm wrapped around my waist, fingers of the other hand entwined with mine. I put my head on his chest and sighed, and we slowly moved together to the music. Bucky’s head was resting on my hair; I was shorter now without the heels on.

“You had a good birthday doll?” he asked and I nodded against his chest.

“Best one in six years” I replied, able to joke about my past more often now I felt secure in the present. I felt a laugh rumbling through his chest. We continued dancing together, alone in our own corner, talking occasionally but mostly in silence. My senses felt heightened by being so close to him. My skin tingled wherever he touched me and I closed my eyes, the better to remember this feeling. The song finished and another started and we continued to sway together, when Bucky spoke again.

“Hey Ruby?” I looked up, loving the way he made my name sound. “Been wanting to ask you something for a while, now seems as good a time as any.” I waited, our dancing stopping. “Didn’t want to do anything without your permission, you’ve had enough of that, but I wanted to ask if I could kiss you.”

I froze trying to see if he was teasing me, but I could feel his heart beating near mine and risked everything, wanting this so much. I nodded, mouthing ‘yes’ on my breath.

The first kiss was gentle and feather light. He brushed his lips against mine and instantly my body was alive with heat. He rested his forehead on mine, looking down to meet my eyes, silently checking if this was OK. I nodded slightly, and looked at his lips, wanting to feel them on mine again. This time there was more pressure, still slow, as he pressed up against me and my mouth opened to his tongue. He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth, then kissed the sting away as I smiled against his mouth. Our kisses become firmer, deeper, and I was lost and giddy with my eyes closed, feeling every inch of my body pressed against him and full of desire.

I was lost in the sensation when the peace was shattered by a loud cry of ‘at last’ and I looked over to see Tony standing, arms aloft, doing a little jig. He pointed at us both and shouted ‘at last’ again, and Bucky and I descended into giggles against each other, and then into kisses again.

We stayed there, in each other’s arms, until everyone else had slipped away, not wanting to break contact, then Bucky picked me up, holding me against him, and took me back to his room. I was home.

4 notes · View notes

nuwisha-laughs-last · 4 years

Text

Changeling excerpts part 1: Pests and Peeves

An excerpt from a World of Darkness Changeling: The Dreaming rpg I played a while back. This is a collab I did with my character and a friend’s character meeting for the first time. If you are unfamiliar with WOD, I will leave some key information at the end if you would like to orient yourself before diving into the story. In the meantime, off we go!

*************

Pooka were social creatures. Some of them weren't, most of them were, but they all LIKED people and none of them WANTED to be alone. Even pooka recognized that dying was one thing that everyone had to do by themselves, but that didn't mean that they had to spend the entire process in solitude. Prior to that last breath, most pooka never spent more than a few minutes alone. They didn't fear death -- they just would have been much happier if it could have been a group activity.

The seer was getting old. She could feel it, even though she still didn't look it. She was always surprised (and more than a little amused) to see her reflection in the mirror and to hear how young other people thought she was. She still looked the same as she had in the past, even as she watched her friends age and die. But that was why she was on the move - seeking someone to keep her company and finding a place that was more appropriate to meandering the future now that all the other's at home had stopped being fun.

She shook her head, and ruffled her fluffy hair, revealing two tawny mouse ears. She was getting melancholic -- a side affect of the rain, she was sure. She glowered up at the sky – rain made her want to curl up in front of a fireplace with chocolate and cheese. The rain should have been considerate enough to wait until she'd found somewhere better insulated than the middle of the road. Or perhaps the road should have been better built to offer more shelter from the rain. She pondered the idea for a minute before spying a nearby cave to hide in. It would be as good of a place as any other to curl up for the night. As if to punctuate her decision, a huge clap of thunder resounded and the downpour suddenly increased.

Wrinkling her mousy little nose, she turned herself to making a small fire near the entrance of the cave and laying out her cloak so that it would dry easier. She chose a blanket from one of her bags that was relatively less-soaked than the rest and wrapped herself in it before pulling out a velvet pouch from under her shirt where it hung around her neck. Squinting in the dark, she peered inside and pulled out a thick stack of tarot cards. She held them out and looked at the pretty pictures before selecting her first card. It was one of her favorites because of the pretty pictures, and after it had accidentally gotten coated in glitter that one time, she tended to use it to represent herself in these readings. Then she laid down the Star Card -- a prudent decision in case she accidentally picked an ugly card for the last one. Then she flipped the cards face down in her hands and closed her eyes, a useless gesture as she opened one to peek anyway, and picked a card. She opened her eyes all the way and stared at the card for a minute before looking out at the rain tilting her head to the side.

"That could work." she whispered, shuffling the cards and putting them back in her pouch.

***

With a weary huff, Morrigan pushed open the door and dropped her bag. Coming up behind the crescent couch to the right of the large circular room, the big, blue troll put her hands on the back and rolled over the edge to land with a satisfied wumpf on the soft cushions. Big as the couch was, Morrigan’s immense height meant her head and legs stuck out significantly on either end. Morrigan dangled her feet up and down trying to loosen her muscles. Training had been rough today. She was no good with spears, they kept getting tangled in her horns. Morrigan reached up and gave the massive ram horns an experimental wiggle. She winced, she’d given them a few pretty good knocks earlier. With a sigh she reached up and started to undo the multitude of braids she used to keep her pale hair out of her face before sinking into the cushions contentedly.

Just as sleep had crept under her eyelids, there was a muffled scuffling noise in the general area of the kitchenette. Morrigan cracked an eye open and peered lazily in that direction. When nothing was forthcoming she shrugged and settled back down. Almost immediately a skittering sound came from in front of the large window on the opposite end of the apartment. This time Morrigan sat up and looked around, listening intently. Once again, silence, but this time Morrigan rose and strode over to the window, searching around the hardwood floor for any sign of…well…anything.

Just as she was about to give up, the noise resurfaced over by the couch. Quick as a flash Morrigan took a running leap and landed in a crouch on the cushions she had been occupying not a moment earlier. But again, she was too late, as the skittering appeared to now be coming from her bedroom. Silently she slid to the door and peeked into the opening. Still nothing.

But she needn’t have worried as none too soon a deafening crash met her ears from the direction of the pantry. With a jump she was at the door and wrenched it open and, well, she definitely couldn’t say she was prepared for the sight that met her eyes.

“Hewro!”

Morrigan looked around wildly for the bearer of the oddly muffled greeting. The pantry floor was covered in white powder but more odd than that was the small woman currently climbing down the pantry shelves. The pooka jumped down and grinned at Morrigan, revealing the cause of her speech impediment: her cheeks were packed full of something and bulging noticeably.

The pooka was incredibly small in stature, even for a changeling of her kind, with wide eyes and a very large amount of thick tawny hair falling down to her waist around two huge mousey-ears. She was dressed in an assortment of clothes that seemed to both match and, simultaneously, clash horribly.

“W-What?” Morrigan stuttered, but the pooka held up a finger in the universal “wait” gesture before indulging in an enormous swallow, then fixed Morrigan with a baleful glower.

“You have no good food in here.” she accused, giving Morrigan the distinct impression she was being judged for the state of her pantry.

Morrigan blinked, at an utter loss for words, and surveyed the mess. Flour littered the floor as well as several canisters of various food-items, their contents scattered to every corner of the room. It seemed that the intruder had scaled the ladder-like shelves of the room to, as evidenced by the empty bag, reach the pack of pistachios. The confusing part is Morrigan kept those on the bottom shelf.

“Well…” Morrigan said, dazed, “not anymore I don’t.” She shook her head, and blinked a few times, struggling to make some sense of the situation.

“I-Wha- where did you come from? WHO are you?! WHY Are you eating my food?!” She picked up the bag, “THIS is as big as your HEAD! How the HELL did it all FIT?!” She dropped the bag and looked around, suddenly deflated by her outburst, “And...and how did you get in?”

The pooka stared up at her with eyes slightly too big for her face and scratched one of her downy ears, “Well that was completely unintelligible, how am I supposed to answer that? You do realize that screaming is horribly unhealthy? It increases your stress levels and causes you to grow strange little freckles on your knees. Incidentally, it also turns you blue. You must spend a great deal of time screaming.”

Morrigan had no words for this small creature, but that didn’t seem to bother her for with a twitch of her tufted tail and a wrinkle of her nose she just continued rambling.

“Who am I? I’m a dormouse so, logically, I came from your door. Alternatively, you can say that your boot is now a door. As for the rest, I have yet to figure out what the size of my head has to do with the size of my stomach, but if you can figure it out, you can tell me later. I came here because three years ago I was visited by an ambassador from the moth kingdom who told me that in order to prevent uncertain doom and destruction and in order to bring glory and honor - you do like glory and honor right? That’s a troll thing, right? I think it was anyway, so I’m supposed to bring glory and honor and in order to do that I had to follow the future as indicated by the moth kingdom ambassador’s magic bamboo plant and arrive to this city. Upon which I used my almighty super awesome seer powers to identify the “younger pooka” I am destined to adopt. You’re not much of a pooka, but the cards are never wrong, so we’ll just make do. Perhaps a shrinking cantrip will sort out that largeness problem. Anyway, where do I sleep?”

“I-“ Morrigan scratched her head. She had never been so confused in her life. “Wait…adopted? You’re not staying here!”

“What are you talking about? I live here. I should call the guard on your intrusion, but I won’t because I understand that as a troll you probably weren’t well-educated on manners and acceptable behavior. But don’t worry, we’ll fix that too. It’s never too late to learn good manners. Oh, and speaking of manners, you may call me the Splendid Soothsayer of Remarkable Fabulousness.”

Morrigan crossed her arms, “I’m NOT calling you that. And you’re NOT staying in MY house.”

“What about the Marvelous Oracle of Tremendous Awesomeness?”

“No.”

“Or the Stunning Seer of Surprising Spectacularosity?”

Morrigan blinked and carefully nudged one of the Pooka’s huge ears, “Can you even hear me? Do those ears work or are they just for decoration?” The Pooka ignored this statement just as she had the previous,

“The Impressive Clairvoyant of Ostentatious Foretelling?”

“Get out.”

“Fine then, the Grand Prophet of Majestic Illustriousness.”

“NO!”

“Well,” the pooka huffed, “you’ll have to call me SOMETHING if we’re going to be roommates.”

Morrigan rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, “This can’t be happening…”

“I KNOW!” The pooka clapped her hands together looking altogether too happy, “You can call me Bridget!”

***

The next morning, Morrigan crawled out of her bed with a groan. Maybe it had all been a dream and she'd never met a mouse pooka who claimed to be the Stunning Deer of Surprising Rediculosity. Or, if that was too elaborate of dream to have come from Morrigan's subconscious, that the pooka had gotten bored and scampered off during the night. That wasn't too unlikely, Morrigan thought to herself. Most pooka got bored easily. But as she walked into the main room, Morrigan was sorely disappointed.

"Bridget, what are you doing?" The pooka didn't respond from where she was attempting, and only minimally succeeding, to move the couch in Morrigan's living room.

"Bridget." Morrigan growled in warning. She was not a morning person and patience was a foreign concept. When Bridget refused to answer, Morrigan stomped over and put her hands on the couch to prevent it from moving. The pooka stared at her in surprise and, satisfied that she finally had the pooka's attention, Morrigan continued.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Good morning, Morrigan!" Bridget chirped, "You know, you really should go see a doctor about those hallucinations. You came in and you kept talking to a Bridget, but I looked around and there wasn't anyone else in the room but me. I was going to interrupt and ask if perhaps the person you were talking to was invisible, because I'd like to meet someone who was invisible too. But my mother always told me not to interrupt when grown-ups were talking. I wonder if she'd still call it interrupting if they're talking to a hallucination." Morrigan's frown deepened as the pooka continued talking.

"I was talking to you, Bridget, I’m not crazy..." Bridget looked very confused before coming around the couch and pressing the back of her hand on Morrigan's wrist, almost as if she were trying to check Morrigan's temperature through it.

"Are you feeling ill, Morrigan? My name's not Bridget, remember? How many fingers am I holding up? Have you been forgetting other people's names? When did the hallucinations start, exactly? My name's Kara, remember?" Morrigan stared flabbergasted at the pooka who was alternating between trying to wave her hand in front of Morrigan's eyes and poking at Morrigan's ribs.

"Yesterday you said your name was Bridget." Morrigan protested weakly. She was too tired for this.

The pooka recoiled in blatant disgust. "Bridget?! Why would I ever call myself Bridget? It's a horrible name that's a derivative of Brittney, which has become ridiculously popular as a name as of late and clearly the sign of parents who want to squash any semblance of uniqueness out of the children while appearing to encourage it. This is just proof that you're ill. Here, you sit down right here, and I'll be right back with some Pepto Bismal for that head." Morrigan just nodded as the small insane thing sat her down on the table and pranced off.

There was a pooka haunting her apartment. With a moan Morrigan slid off the table and retreated to her room. She was going back to bed.

*** END ***

And now for the promised infodump for those interested in WOD:

What is a Changeling?: “In this game, the player characters are half-human, half-fairy changelings. Cut off from Arcadia, not quite of this Earth, these changelings are torn between their human and fae natures. If the two natures aren't balanced, the results may be disastrous” ( https://whitewolf.fandom.com/wiki/Changeling:_The_Dreaming )

What is a Pooka?: “Pranksters and comedians, Pooka are well-loved by kithain and mortal alike, but few who know them will ever trust them completely: they are incapable of telling the whole truth. Each is able to take on the form of a specific animal, most often one with a tie to human stories of mischief” ( https://whitewolf.fandom.com/wiki/Pooka_(CTD) )

What is a Troll?: “Trolls are dreams of honor and duty--their honor is literally their strength. Loyal to a fault and near-stoic as stone, they have been at times bitter rivals and at times staunch allies of the Sidhe. More than anyone, these warriors are guardians of the commoners.” ( https://whitewolf.fandom.com/wiki/Troll_(CTD) )

If you enjoy tabletops and haven’t played any World of Darkness I highly recommend it! I’m going through a Werewolf the Apocalypse campaign right now and will probably post some excerpts from that too in the future.

#nuwishalaughslast #changeling #world of darkness #white wolf #fantasy writing #fantasy writer #rpg #fiction #changeling the dreaming #pooka #troll #g/t #giant/tiny

2 notes · View notes

angelfire115 · 4 years

Text

You swept me off my feet part 4

Charlotte woke up uncomfortable but slightly warm, she heard the birds outside sing which made it clear it was morning. She tried to move but she felt some weight on her. She opened her eyes to realize where she was. She was in the hall she remembered being in last night, where she had that terrifying encounter with a beast and a warm moment with Helsa. Speaking of which, Helsa was the weight she felt, apparently both girls fell asleep in the middle of the hall, wrapped in each others arms. Charlotte had no nightmares about last night which she swore she would have if Helsa wasn't there. Even as a kid, being in the arms of someone she knows and cares for, like her parents, always made her feel better.

Helsa groaned, slightly moving, then a huge yawn left her lips as her head slowly rose up. When the wieght on Charlottes head was gone, Charlotte also got up. Both girls stretched as far as their muscles could bare. Cracking sounds being heard from both. It took Helsa maybe 10 seconds to realise where she was. Helsa: "Wait, why did I fall asleep here? Especially with you?". Charlotte: "I-". Helsa: "Nevemind, the question I should be asking is why you were out here crying? And why do you have such a creepy cane?". Helsas demand for question was a bit mind boggling for Charlotte, would she even believe what happened last night?

Before another word could be said, the voice of Mary Von Eldritch rang through the house. She was calling for the girls, wondering where they were. Helsa gave Charlotte one more glare before getting up to see her mother. Mary: "Oh, Helsa, there you are, I was wondering if you and Charlotte could help me with something". Helsa rolled her eyes while Charlotte came around the corner. Seeing both girls awake made Mary surprised and suspicious. Mary: "Hmm, so what were you two doing this early in the morning?". Helsa and Charlotte looked at each other before looking back at Mary. Charlotte: "Nothing, just talking". Mary's face lit up in surprise but was happy the two were getting along.

Mary: "Anyway, I need both of your opinions on a dress I should wear at me and Arthur's dinner". Both girls looked at the woman, confused on why she needed them too. Mary: "Oh, don't you two listen, its me and your fathers anniversary tomorrow and we're going out". The conversation Mary and Arthur had about an anniversary date resurfaced in their minds. Before continuing up stairs, Mary looked at the girls attire. Mary: "Didn't you wear that dress yesterday Charlotte dear? And you too Helsa". They both looked down at their outfits, also remembering they fell asleep in them. Charlotte: "Oh well, I must have not realized I put it back on". Helsa nodded, going with the same arguement.

Mary hummed in response before heading back upstairs and too her room with the two girls following behind. A bunch of beautiful and elegant dresses where splayed throughout the room. Dresses of different styles, sizes, colours and more. Helsa and Charlotte awed in the amazement and beauty of the dresses and the amount of them. Charlotte: "There's so many". Charlotte spoke under her breath but the two ladies still heard her. Helsa: "I know". Mary turned to the girls, somewhat stressed. Mary: "Alright, now, you two will help me choose a dress, it has to be perfect". Helsa huffed in response while Charlotte got excited. She has done this many times with her mother so she was knowledgeable of fashion while Helsa didn't seem as interested.

Mary led the girls to sit at a couch that was placed infront of a dressing room. They sat there for over an hour going over dress after dress. Charlotte giving her most honest opinions while also giving advice which Mary was happy to hear. Helsa, however, only ever said "Looks great mum" to every single dress she tried on, making it obvious she didn't want to be here. After choosing a lovely dress, they moved onto accessories and hair styles. Charlotte contributed more then Helsa did, of course, not that anyone noticed. After an infinite amount of girl talk on hair and more, the day finally came to an end. The sun set and the sky became dark. Looking out to the darkness and the forest beyond sent an uneasy twang in Charlottes gut. She definitely wasn't going night walking on her own again.

As all the ladies went down stairs to attend dinner both Harold and Arthur were already there. Arthur: "Well well well, look who it is? The 3 beauties of the house now finally came to dinner". Mary held her hips and made a cheeky smug look at her husband. Mary: "I know, it's so difficult for you boys to do anything without us ladies". Everyone laughed at her humour, except Helsa who rolled her eyes and went to sit at a chair on one side of the dinner table. Everyone had their dinner as usual, chatting away the day they had. Except for Arthur who was too busy digging into a newspaper to pay attention. Mary: "Honey, it's dinner, you can read the daily news later".

Arthur noticed his wife talking and had a troubled expression on his face. Arthur: "Oh sorry my love, it's just the most strangest thing happened today, Old man Jenkins that owns that cane store was found dead this morning". Charlotte stopped her eating as she heard the news, the cane store? The same one that she went too? She waited to hear more. Mary: "How tragic, did he die from heart failure? That man was at that stage of life after all". Arthur's expression became confused and he hesitated to say anything else but after seeing the curious expressions on everyone else's face, he gave up. Arthur: "No, he apparently got murdered, pretty brutally actually, says here his blood was everywhere".

This made Charlotte's heart stop, the voices of everyone else, including Mary's rant on not speaking of something while having dinner faded away as she couldn't stop thinking of this event. She found the cane this morning, out in the garden, in the same spot and the old man, who had that cane, died. But not only died but was murdered and then the cane suddenly appears back into her possession and in extension, she got attacked that same night by an unknown being. This couldn't have been a coincidence, it couldn't have been, is someone trying to send her a message? Is there some kind of messed up plot happening? She didn't know, she didn't want too. All she wanted was to go home, forget about everything, the marriage, the strange cane and the strange and terrifying things that happened around her. She just, wanted to go home.

As dinner ended and everyone returned to their rooms, Charlotte sat on her bed, thinking again. She looked to the corner of the room, seeing the cane she left sit there, still in it's same position. She slowly got up and walked towards it, hesitant on touching it but picked it up in her hands and held it gently. She looked to the initials, A.R.D, what could that mean? And could whoever this person be, be the one messing with her? Doing these crazy events and scaring her? She didn't know.

She made her way out of her room and walked through the house halls, heading downstairs into the quiet living room. She looked around, she had gotten used to the walls and the atmosphere of the establishment but still, something felt off. She kept trailing around the mansion, walking as quietly as possible so not to disturb anyone. When she made it to the front door, she stopped, staring at the finely carved decorations before opening to feel the chill air. Carefully walking down the steps she stared into the night sky, it was slightly cloudy but she could still see the stars. She kept on wondering, letting her mind wonder as well. She didn't care where she was going, as long as she could think in peace, she didn't care. She thought about everything that had happened, the wedding, the day she met the Eldritch's, the day she found the cane, the day she met the old cane seller man, the day she had that terrifying encounter and more. It was a mixture of emotions, she loved it here, the family was nice even Helsa was but she had such a deep and terrible feeling deep in her gut that she ignored till now.

Her mind wondered more and she pondered each second she had while being here. After a while, she stopped her walking, suddenly questioning where she was. And then it hit her, she was exactly in the same spot she stood when she found the cane and met that beast. She looked out into the woods, a trickling of fear crept up her stomach as she remembered that night standing here and seeing those red eyes. But the fear was only minimum since not a sign of that thing appeared. She thought about going back inside but the air felt nice and cool and she felt that sense of freedom again. As she stood there, wanting too for just a bit longer, the slight breeze stopped, the sound of insects chirping stopped, its like time stood still, for those few moments, nothing happened. Charlotte thought now it was the time to leave, like the rest of the world told her to get back inside. Suddnely that forboding gut feeling came back, the same one she felt when she left the cane in that mans possession, she squeezed tightly at the staff as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart raced like she was having a heart attack, she thought she was till.....

"Hello Charlotte".

#hazbin hotel #Charlastor #Charlie #Alastor #Arthur #Mary #Helsa #Harold #fanfic #oof #you swept me off my feet #Charlie x Alastor #ooooooooh shiiiiiiiiiii-#its about to go down

19 notes · View notes

julietandcinderellavocaloid · 4 years

Text

Broken Juliet Chapter 9

With the decision to put what had happened the night before behind them, Rin and Nero ate a small breakfast and began walking hand in hand back to their village. They arrived in time for Rin to meet with Merli and sell all her handkerchiefs to the Alice before she moved away. Merli would not accept the handkerchiefs at a discount, and Rin made more in that one transaction than she typically made during the Saturdays she used to spend selling to multiple customers.

"All I ask is you pay the kindness forward one day," Merli had simply replied after Rin tearfully thanked her.

As Rin and Nero returned home, Nero teased, "Looks like you'll get your hovercraft wish for sure now. We might be able to move to another district altogether."

"As long as there's plenty of country in the district we choose, then let's do it," Rin replied, her excitement for the day she could leave the village forever reignited.

The high of the date at the fair lingered even as the events afterwards slowly faded away, and things began to return to normal. Routine resumed. Leon's other workhands still thought of Rin as nothing more than furniture that worked in the fields alongside them.

After service two weeks later, Nero gently laid a hand on Rin's shoulder as the other churchgoers exited the building and said, "You know, today is great fishing weather."

"It is," Rin agreed, having gone with Nero a few times. Nero grinned, and Rin returned the gesture as she nodded along.

The two returned to the barn, changed into the most worn clothes they owned, grabbed their fishing supplies, and walked to the lake. They ate sandwiches for lunch along the way, bragging over who was going to catch the biggest fish. When they arrived, Nero began setting up the boat tied to the dock, left there by nobody knew whom but was used by anyone and everyone who wanted to use it.

Nero made sure Rin was safely inside before he hopped in. Using the oars, he and Rin paddled half a mile away from the dock. From there, it was only a matter of baiting their hooks and waiting for the fish to bite.

"To live close to a lake so we can keep doing this for years to come," Rin said quietly as the afternoon leisurely rolled by.

"To own a boat for ourselves so we can keep doing this without fear the boat is going to start leaking at any moment," Nero replied. Rin looked at Nero to see him frowning at the bottom. "I'm surprised this thing is still floating. Maybe after today, we should start fishing on the dock."

Rin didn't disagree. The wood did look old, and it did begin to look as if it struggled to hold up their weight. Not knowing how to swim, she decided for the future it would be better to not take any chances.

Time lolled by, and the sun dragged across the sky.

"No bites today." Rin sighed, disappointed. "I was really hoping for grilled fish for dinner."

"Let's give it another hour," Nero decided.

"You keep fishing. I think I'm going to sit back for a moment and rela—AHHHH!"

It was as Rin turned around the side of the boat finally gave away. Her back had barely begun to lean against the boat when the boards broke, but it was enough for Rin to lose balance and fall backwards. Reaching out, Rin tried to find something, anything to clasp onto, but her fingers grasped only air as her entire body hurled into the lake below.

Thrashing wildly, Rin tried with no success to break the surface. The more she kicked, the harder it became to move her limbs. It was as if snakes were wrapping their bodies around her to keep her from escaping. Rin was sinking quickly. Her lungs, not used to Rin holding her breath, already ached for air.

Eyes tightly shut, Rin couldn't see anything. The sounds around her were muffled, but she did hear what she believed to be a splash as someone else jumped into the water. Against her body's instincts to keep kicking and clawing, Rin stopped. Nero always promised to jump in after her if she ever fell into the lake, but he couldn't help her if she didn't let him. Trusting Nero, Rin remained still even as she felt something grab her, the snakes on her body and limbs coming loose.

It felt as if they were reaching the surface, but the momentum came to a sudden halt. Lungs on fire, Rin opened her eyes to try to figure out why they stopped. All she needed was to see Nero's concerned face to realize something was wrong.

Their chests pressed together, Nero looked at Rin as if her face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before hugging her close. It was the tightest hug he had ever given her. Then with a strength Rin didn't know Nero had, he threw her upwards hard enough for Rin's head to break the surface.

Rin gasped for air and clung to the boat. Adrenaline granting her the strength, Rin pulled herself back onto the boat through the opening that sent her into the water in the first place. Safely aboard, Rin stayed on her knees and turned around to help Nero back up.

But Nero never resurfaced.

Although Rin wasn't aware of it, and looking back she still didn't remember doing such a thing, she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her bloodcurdling shouts alerted nearby hikers that something was wrong. They rushed to her aid, one swimming all the way over to the boat while the others sought help.

Try as the hiker might, he could not calm Rin down. When Rin was finally able to string together the words to tell him what was wrong, he dived in after Nero. He reemerged alone, his shaking head the only way he could tell Rin it was already too late.

Overwhelmed by grief, shock, and summer heat, Rin collapsed as she fully understood what this news meant.

Nero was dead.

And it was all Rin's fault.

When Rin fell overboard, officials now knew from both investigating and hearing her own account multiple times, her thrashing stirred up a net anchored to the bottom of the lake. It began to tangle her in, but Nero arrived and pulled it off Rin. However, Nero himself got caught as well when he tried to kick to the surface, Rin in his arms. The anchor holding the net down was too heavy for Nero to move, and his ankles were too tied for him to break free on his own. Although he probably tried anyway to free himself after launching Rin upwards.

Only it wasn't enough. Nero was down there alone, and he didn't have a knife or anything to cut himself free. While Rin cried for help that didn't come till minutes later, he drowned.

Nero selflessly spent his final moments saving Rin. By diving in after her, he saved her life with his as the price. In an act of pure, genuine love, Nero gave up his life for Rin.

And it had become the shame and guilt Rin bore for the days, weeks, months that followed. The funeral was unbearable. His burial even more so. Brother Fukase tried his best to console her. Leon told Rin that this was her fault, breaking her tattooed wrist and forcing her to work through the pain as a reminder for what she had done, what she had cost.

Every night, before Rin went to sleep, she lied on the mattress that was Nero's before he gave it to her over a year ago, when they had barely been friends. She stared at the ceiling, knowing now more than ever that there was no mistake in the tattoo given to her that dreadful day over twelve years ago. Rin was a curse, and by loving her, Nero suffered the consequences.

#Juliet and Cinderella #Broken Juliet #Kagamine Rin #Rin Kagamine #Akita Nero #Nero Akita #Rin X Nero #Nero X Rin #Rinero #Vocaloid fanfic

2 notes · View notes

gothamdetected-a · 4 years

Text

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿 𝙒𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙎 𝙒𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙔 𝙊𝙉 𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 ; bruises are covered with cotton and silk, gouges and stab wounds and years of pale scars buried beneath shirts and waistcoats and jackets. pain tingles dully at the edges of his senses, shifting his ribs, twinging his shoulder as buttons are fastened and a different sort of armour is donned, no less effective than the suit abandoned down in the cave. golden sunlight pours through the windows, and sleep clings to him with tenacious fingers, dug into his eyelids and leaving his hands uncoordinated, clumsy. the warm, honeyed glow catches at clark, radiant HALO crowning him, and not for the first time bruce forgets to breathe. here he stands, under caffeinated and barely comprehensible, in the presence of a god ( not worthy not worthy not worthy not worthy ) 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒 personified, 𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 walking among the mortals. INCANDESCENT. hard to look at, even harder to look away.

these are the sort of mornings that he dreads —— his conviction in the mission wavers, his bed calls to him as much as clark, cosy, soft sheets that he can d r o w n in, sink to the bottom, never to resurface. all too easy to take broad hands in his, pull him back to the welcome embrace of the mattress, let unconsciousness claim him, safe in a cage of invulnerable flesh. 𝘚𝘈𝘍𝘌. lips pressed to perfect, unblemished skin, the hazy exchange of tired, undefined kisses before sleep washes over them like a tide. all too easy. bruce wayne is already late to his first appointment of the day. clark has to get to the planet. the world does not stop, does not let them capture a single peaceful moment, draw it out lazily like spun thread. grim determination coats his movements, the sheer force of willpower keeping him steadfast, solid as a rock. his fingers move with brisk, forced efficiency through the motions trained into them, muscle memory. the tender smile on clark’s lips does nothing to help his resolve.

breathe in, breathe out. let the tension slip away.

peripherals still stare, focus on the sight of clark disappearing, gentle giant and restrained power and quiet confidence melting away, replaced with awkwardness and a slouch and a horrendous suit ( they all wear armour. ) even like this, he is spectacular, handsome even as the glasses are slid into place, dulling those unearthly blue eyes. there is a coffee stain on his shirt. even like this, he is PERFECT. bruce waits for him to step forward, complete their morning ritual with a precious, stolen moment of affection.

@stcndsforhope’s fingers came up, to adjust bruce's tie, before he lets his hands settle on his shoulders, briefly, before sliding around to lightly link his fingers together behind his neck. ❝ ---have a good day, today. try to stay out of trouble, while i'm at work. ❞ clark's soft smile spread into a grin, for a few seconds, as he leans in to kiss bruce; quick, but still full of love. ❝ ---i love you. ❞

it does not matter how many times they kiss, he never loses that feeling of gravity lifting away, knees weak and body too light. superman is not the only one who can soar.

he means to say something, after they pull apart, something dry and sharp with wit, the kind of line he knows will make clark huff out a laugh and smile despite himself, and then clark says it. the phrase. as easy as breathing. ❛ clark, i —— ❜ they both know the words won’t come. a flood rises anyway, all-consuming, engulfing, a terrifying 𝙏𝙎𝙐𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄 of dark water, and no matter how hard bruce fights against the current, he is dragged down, down, down.

silver catches at clark’s temples, pale as moonlight, and bruce knows his own face is creasing with age, skin thinning, body slowing. time is slipping away from them, EPHEMERAL, and he clings to it, afraid. they will die. ( you will die bruce. have died. will do again. long before clark. you will leave him alone, you always leave him alone. ) precious seconds vanish, whole days slide into the horizon, months and years become immutable, unchangeable, the past. panic grips at him, a cold, grey terror, stomach churning and roiling. so little time, and this is how they spend it? this is how they WASTE it?

if he intends his words to be in the growl of the bat, brokering no argument, he doesn’t get it. instead his voice comes weedy, desperate, head bowed against clark’s shoulder in silent prayer, devotion. a benediction to the deity. ❛ call in sick. ❜ he needs him, needs to hold him, tangible, belay the fears of an old man, coursing through his body like toxic poison. ❛ i’ll— i’ll clear my schedule. we can stay here. just us. the whole day to ourselves. please, clark. ❜ the kiss he presses to clark’s lips is filled with need, DISTRAUGHT, more painful that the injuries that tug sharply at his nerve endings. he can’t breathe without him, can’t exist without him, so many years squandered that he can’t bear the thought of another minute more. ❛ please, i can’t —— ❜

#uwu #dyn. stcndsforhope #stcndsforhope #STCNDSFORHOPE // 001.#\system\directory\intel.txt ›› IC #death ment /#tw: death #existential /#tw: existential #𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 / 𝐀𝐑𝐂 ; another head aches another heart breaks . i am so much older than i can take / stcndsforhope

1 note · View note

jadekitty777 · 5 years

Text

Divine Intervention: Chapter 1

Unofficial Taiqrowweek: Day 2

And thus begins chapter 1 of the 4-chapter long story I promised. I really had fun with this one and I hope you all have fun reading it.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,600

Ao3 Link: Chapter 1

Summary: [Afterlife AU] Qrow is a raider demon. His job is clear: Collect recently fallen souls for Hell. The more he could gather, the more power he would be granted. Easy, right?

Well, it would be, if not for a certain blond angel constantly getting in his way. Qrow was pretty sure Taiyang’s job wasn’t to keep the souls safe from him, but rather to infuriate him with his overblown righteousness and his insufferable smiles.

Eternal damnation wasn’t supposed to be this annoying.

When someone passed on, a bell tolled to mark the moment.

A Dead Ringer, the other demons would joke like it was the funniest thing in the underworld.

(It got old faster than a mayfly.)

The moment that familiar jingle hit the air it often became a race to see who would get to the fallen soul first. The angels had the advantage in speed, being able to zip through light beams to transport them across the sky or down to the surface near instantly, while the demons had to follow their dark trails to get to the same point, often losing minutes to catch up. But demons had the advantage on accessibility. There were more points of darkness to pull a soul into Hell than there were holy points – like a synagogue or a shrine – that was necessary to teleport them to Heaven’s gates. So, all a demon needed to be was stronger. But, unlike the angels who were given everything from their speed to their weapons on a silver platter, demons had to earn their strength. The more souls they had, the more strength and prestige they were given.

And thus, the eternal war was fought.

In the big cities, where a death happened every few minutes, it was like watching a million doves descend from the sky while the bats swooped in from the shadows. The two would constantly be in battle, fighting over a single, tiny firefly. It was decreed that only the best and strongest of their brood were stationed at these high traffic points. Smaller towns were put in charge with the less experienced but whom had high potential.

And ghost towns? Those tiny, nearly uninhabited places that got little more than a faded wooden sign no one would see on the road? With deaths so rare and an area so wide, it was nearly impossible to catch the soul in time? Those were given to the failures.

Still, when the bell tolled, Qrow spread his wings and tried.

He was actually in luck for once, as he was fairly close. He’d been roosting nearby, knowing the old man in his woodland shack was getting ready to bite the dust any day now. The sound of another death was a surprise, but also too nearby to ignore. So he flew fast, sinking into any shadow points he could find to hasten his way. It was like walking into a portal. He would dive into one, only to resurface from another miles away.

Even luckier, he emerged from the last jump point so near to the lost soul, he could feel the warmth of the light it was emitting. All he had to do was grab them and drag them in and he would finally have something to tally onto his vacant scoreboard.

He was just a level above them in the loft of a barn that was long overdue for a renovation. Had he been solid, he would have quickly fallen through the rotten wood – but his steps made no noise as he approached the railing and peered down at the main floor.

But the moment he saw the back of that familiar golden hair, Qrow couldn’t help but scoff. Of course it had to be him.

“You know,” He drawled as he lent against the rail, “I’m beginning to think Heaven’s a little short on Guiding Angels these days.”

He heard a tiny gasp, but it was quickly drowned out by the angel’s amused chuckles.

“Hello Qrow.” Taiyang said, looking over his shoulder – and there it was. His smile. Always kind and eternally patient.

Oh, how he hated that smile.

He hmphed, tilting his head to try and get a glimpse of the soul hidden around those overgrown feather dusters. “So, who do you have for me today?”

Taiyang’s expression only grew more amused. A whimper drew his gaze down. “Don’t worry. He’s a friend.”

Qrow opened his mouth, ready to refute such a blasphemous claim, only for his voice to choke as Tai finally stepped aside.

Oh.

The boy, with olive skin and freckles all over his face, couldn’t have been more than six. He stared up at Qrow with eyes so wide they nearly took up his entire face, before he clutched onto Tai and tried to hide behind his leg.

His jaw snapped close and he looked away, glaring his ire away at nothing. “You’d… better get him home safely.”

“I will.” Taiyang replied, running a hand over the boy’s hair. “Though, if you’d wish to ensure our safe passage, why don’t you accompany us?”

Qrow shot him such a murderous gaze, he was certain he’d combust on sight.

That infuriating smile never even faltered as he offered in way of explanation, “It is a rather dark night after all.”

He scoffed, turning his back on them.

No way. Not happening. Not in a million lifetimes would he EVER-

He was tricked.

It was the only conclusion Qrow could come to as he walked along the woodland trail beside the two, scowling up at the hidden moon. Of all the nights for it to be overcast. Stupid dumb clouds preventing the blond featherbrain from zipping across his stupid dumb light beams and making stupid dumb him have to come along instead.

“Thank you for this.”

He angled his head to face the angel. Tai’s sincerity was almost blinding. He scoffed. “Yeah, whatever. How far do we have to go anyways?”

“A few miles. We should be there within an hour.”

An hour? Sure. If they weren’t carting around a little brat that is. Qrow eyes rolled downwards to where Oscar was holding onto the angel’s hand tightly.

Much to his surprise, the brat was looking right back at him. Unlike before in the barn, his expression had morphed from fear into one full of open curiosity that all children seemed to possess.

He arched an eyebrow. “What is it kid?”

Oscar blinked back. “Are you part goat?”

“Wha-!?” Qrow jerked back. “Do I look part goat?”

“Well yeah. You got the-” The boy made a swirling motion by his temple, mimicking the spiraled horns jutting from Qrow’s actual head. “You look just like Mata.” He suddenly gaped at him widely. “Wait! Are you Mata?”

“Kid, are you stupid?”

“Gentle, Qrow.” Tai admonished lightly.

The insult seemed to fly right over Oscar’s head as he tugged insistently at Tai’s hand. “We need to go back! Mama and Papa need Mata. He’s a really good goat!”

“I’m sure he is Oscar.”

Qrow had to fight the urge to tap his foot when Tai stopped walking to kneel down and talk the boy through his inane little crisis. God, he didn’t have time for all this sentimental crap. Couldn’t they just knock the kid out and fly there so he could get back to his eternal damnation already?

Unperturbed by his plight, Tai continued on in that voice so gentle, Qrow was beginning to suspect he didn’t know how to talk loudly. “Mata’s fine. We made sure to check all the animals before we left, remember?”

“But can’t we check again?” Oscar insisted.

Tai shook his head. “We really need to go.”

“But a few more minutes would be okay, right?”

Qrow’s spade-tipped tail lashed behind him as his patience finally snapped. “No, it’s not kid, so quit whining already.”

Well at least it finally wiped that idiotic smile from Tai’s face as he shot him a disapproving gaze. It was gone in a blink as he focused back on Oscar. “What Qrow means is, there’s a lot of bad things out here that might try to hurt you; things we want to protect you from. Because he’s with us, he can hide us. Think of it like a super power of his. But, it’s not one that lasts forever. The more time that passes, the more danger you’ll be in.”

He frowned upon hearing that. He knew the other was talking The Cloak. An angel and a demon being in the same vicinity would blind others from seeing the neutral soul between them. However, it didn’t expire in strength – or at least, he’d never heard of it doing so. Then again, it wasn’t often a soul was left unchecked on the crossroads plane for more than a few minutes. Normally he could chalk it up to his own inexperience, but his gut was telling him Tai was lying. The question was, why?

“Can’t he make it last a little longer? Please?” The boy begged. He looked back at him then, repeating, “Please??”

What was really going on hit Qrow like a smite of lightning the moment he saw those watering eyes. He looked away, not saying a word.

Luckily Tai filled in for him. Still kind, but firm, “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“But…” There it was; a sniffle. “But I don’t want to go… I don’t want to go!”

The angel didn’t pause, sweeping him up into his arms and hugging him tight. “I know, Oscar. I know it hurts. And it’s scary. But you won’t be alone. I promise.”

The boy was crying in earnest now, burying his head into his chest. “I don’t care! I want to go home – I want to go home!”

Qrow sat down on a rock, resigning himself to his fate, listening to this boy – this tiny, innocent child – break down as the reality of it all finally sunk in.

It hurt in a way he’d almost forgotten. The only ease of it all he could find was the knowledge that lost souls were given a chance at a happy afterlife. For forsaken souls, like himself, they were given no chance at all and were just pulled straight to hell.

In that moment, he found himself wishing harder than ever before that alcohol existed in the afterlife.

It was even darker out when they started down the trail once more. The rain clouds above were now thick and heavy, quietening the forest around them with the threat of the storm, and the mood was equally subdued. Qrow snuck glances at the pair beside him, trying not to give away he was checking up on Oscar. The boy had tired himself out, but his sleep was peaceful as he drooled against Tai’s collarbone. If it or the weight of him was a bother, Tai certainly didn’t let on, seeming to just be doing his best not to jostle the precious bundle whenever he readjusted his grip.

“I’m sorry.”

Qrow started. They’d been quiet so long, he had begun to suspect they’d make the rest of the trip in silence. “What for?” He asked, trying to keep his own voice low.

“I know it’s taking longer than you’d like.” Tai said. “You’ve been exceedingly kind about this all. Offering your protection. Allowing Oscar to grieve.”

“Yeah well-” Qrow started before trailing off, honestly uncertain how to respond with any amount of grace. So, he just didn’t. Instead, he nodded towards the kid. “What did he die from anyways?”

He hiked Oscar a little higher. “Sickness, poor thing. We were just saying goodbye to his horse when you arrived.”

He regarded the boy quietly, the echoes of his cries still reverberating in his head. He wondered how lonely it would be for him now. “We could have given him a few more minutes.”

“No.” Tai replied. “It makes it ten times harder.”

This time, Qrow’s scrutiny was on him. “Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately.” He rubbed Oscar’s back idly. “They all think they want that. But it only makes them hurt more. Most times, they’re already in Heaven before it hits. But on days like today…” He shut his eyes, heaving a sigh that rivaled the weight of the world. “These are the hardest.”

He hummed noncommittally. Admittedly, he didn’t know Taiyang all that well. They’d had enough run-ins on the field that he’d become quite the thorn in his side. It was becoming so laughably common, that Qrow’d begun to source him as the main obstacle preventing him from moving up in the ranks, particularly because he was no match for the angel. He still remembered their first encounter. It had ended in five seconds, with Qrow flat on his back and seeing more stars than Hollywood.

He’d wisely avoided further fights after that.

But beyond his name and that he was infuriatingly chipper all the time, there wasn’t much else he could glean about the other. When he was alive, Qrow used to pride himself on being the one who knew everything about everyone – but after four years of being dead, he must be losing his touch. Perhaps that was why he decided to ask, “How long have you been doing this?”

Tai seemed as equally caught off guard by the question. “Huh. It’s been awhile since I counted.” He pursed his lips, doing some quiet calculations. “I think it’s been fifty… three? Yeah. Fifty-three years.”

“What?!” Qrow almost tripped over his own feet. “You gotta be kidding me. Aren’t guiding angels supposed to retire after twenty?” No wonder he’d never had a chance against him! He’d just assumed he was outmatched because Taiyang was close to his quota, but this was ridiculous.

“We’re allowed to, but we don’t have to.”

His eyebrows drew together, suspicion mounting. “But if it’s so terrible, then why don’t you? Unless,” He strode ahead, swiveling around so he could walk backwards and look him right in the eyes as he asked, “You trying to atone for something lemon drop?”

“Lemon drop? That’s a new one.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“So impatient.” Tai teased. As he looked down towards Oscar, his face smoothed to something much softer. “You misunderstand. Yes, it’s hard when they hurt. But the reward of getting them home greatly outweighs my sentimentality. Though, I will admit, I only do this occasionally.”

Qrow grumbled under his breath, “Not occasionally enough.”

By the grin Taiyang wore, he guessed it didn’t go unheard. “What about you? Raiders have to get a thousand souls, right? How far have you gotten?”

“Tch, me?” He gestured to himself grandly. “I’ve got plenty! So many that you wouldn’t believe.”

“Not even one, huh?”

Qrow turned his back to him, sneering at the ground. “Shut up.”

There was a gentle flapping and then Taiyang was touching down next to him. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“What do you know?” He took a step away.

Thankfully, he didn’t come closer. “Admittedly nothing. Just trying to cheer you up.”

Of course, he was. “Well don’t. Everything’s fine. You’ll see. One day, my name’ll be so feared, Heaven itself will shake if someone says it.”

“I feel bad for bird watchers then.”

Qrow glowered. “You’ll be sorry for saying shit like that when I’m an overlord of the underworld.” He stood up a little taller, straightening his jacket. “Lucky for you, I’m also a very gracious ruler. So, if you apologize now I might go easy on your punishment later.”

Tai snorted. “I’ll take my chances. Thanks anyways.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged. “It’s your second funeral.”

“Indeed.” He replied, scanning the area. Not that there was much to see beyond trees and more trees. “Hey Qrow?”

“What?”

“How did you die?”

He almost tripped again. “Wow buddy. First date and you’re already getting personal.”

Tai feigned innocence. “Just making conversation.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes skeptically – but what could he really do with the information anyways? “I was on Death Row. Happened to still be in a place that used the electric chair. Not much to write home about; I was gone in a second.”

“Must have been shocking.”

“Yeah it- Hey!” Tai could barely contain his laughter. Qrow punched his arm, still being mindful of Oscar. “Alright wise guy, you wanna play it that way? How’d you bite it?”

Taiyang shifted his grip so he could lift his hand, placing his index and middle finger against his temple and jerked his hand up in a telltale gesture, winking as he did. “With a bang.”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t decide what was more annoying; his smile or his jokes. “Surprised they even had any guns back in your times, ya geezer.” He gave him a look over, studying his leather-fringed vest and square-toed boots. “Actually, nevermind. Can’t say that about a guy who looks like he walked right out of the Old West. What happened cowboy? Not quick enough on the draw?”

“First of all, I was a rancher. Second of all, no one shot me.”

“How could no one of shot you if you were killed by a-” Qrow felt like he’d been struck by lightning twice as he finally understood and he trailed off. He stared wide-eyed at Tai, barely able to believe someone that seemed to be sunshine incarnate could have ever... He rubbed a hand through his hair, turning away. “Oh. Uh, I… Sorry.”

“Only one who’s sorry is me.” He said. “But it’s in the past now. All I can do is forgive myself and move forward.”

He hunched his shoulders some. “That simple, huh?”

“Never said that.” Tai smiled his way. “But maybe you’ll understand one day.”

Qrow huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he could hide the blood on them.

He was long past a place to be forgiven.

The church, if it could be called that, was in a state of total disrepair. Most of the paint was peeled off, with only a few flecks here and there implying it was once a pristine, shiny white. There were holes in the rooftop, with the cross at the peak having fallen sideways. Birds were living up in the rafters or hopping between the cracks of broken windows. Overgrown weeds drooped over the concrete walkway like claws trying one last chance to snatch people from salvation before they could get to the front doors.

Oscar rubbed the sleep from his eyes, took one look at it and said, “This is it?”

“I’ll admit, it’s not the prettiest, but it’ll get us home just fine.” Tai reassured.

As the two stepped over the property line, Qrow finally felt some tension unwind from his shoulders. Finally, his job was done. “Well, you two have fun jumping on clouds and playing on harps – or whatever it is you cherubs do.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Oscar asked.

He shrugged. “Nah, it’s not really my scene.”

“Huh?”

Tai placed a hand on the kid’s head. “What he means is, he has other things he’s got to do. But, he did help us get all the way here safely, so you should thank him.”

Oscar nodded, waving his way. “Thank you, Mr. Goat Man!”

Qrow had to suppress a grin. Alright, so maybe he was a little cute. “Anytime pipsqueak.”

“Yes, thank you.” Tai echoed the sentiment.

“No, no!” The kid tugged his pant leg. “That’s not how adults thank each other!”

“Oh?” The angel peered down at him. “How do they thank each other then?” Oscar gestured for him to kneel. Once he had, he cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered something in his ear. Qrow couldn’t hear it, but he did see the way Tai’s eyebrows pinched together before rising up in surprise. “Oh.” He pulled away and nodded. “You’re right, that is the right way.”

He climbed to his feet, crossing back over the line.

Qrow shifted back as he approached. “What, you gonna give me a hug or something?”

“You’re close.” Tai told him as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

The way his fingertips skimmed along the inside of one of his bat-like wings sent shivers down his spine. He looked towards the offending limb – and that must have been what Tai was hoping for as he dove forward suddenly and kissed his cheek.

Qrow jerked back, nearly slapping himself as he covered the spot.

“I could get used to thanking you like this.” Tai said, his smile almost too warm.

“You-you!” He spluttered uselessly. His response didn’t matter, because the other was already heading back over the barrier, separating them once more.

“See you again soon, Qrow.” The angel said in parting, before turning to the boy, holding out his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Uh-huh.” Oscar clasped his hand, following his lead.

He watched them ascend the steps and approach the front door. As Tai touched it, a radiant glow began to emit from the edges. Heaven seemed to spill right out of the threshold as he pulled the door open, the two quickly becoming absorbed in the light. Even with their departure, the light did not dim away immediately and was so comforting, so inviting, Qrow could not help but take a step forward.

“Qrow.”

He started at the voice, looking around in confusion. Where had it come from? It sounded like-

“Come home, Qrow.” There it was again. It was coming… from the light!

“Ra-” He started to say, but froze, backing away. No. He wouldn’t be tricked.

“Come home.” The light pulsed.

“No!” What had once been warm had turned scorching. Sweat beaded down his brow as he recoiled further. He took to the sky, until he was high above the building. As the glow started to fade, he yelled at it, “It’s not enough! One good deed… it’s not enough for forgiveness!” He shut his burning eyes, shouting to the heavens, “Nothing is!”

Thunder clashed with his screams and the rain began to fall.

Underneath all the calamity, another bell tolled and he knew it was the old man he’d been so patiently waiting for finally passing on.

He twisted around, bolting across the sky.

He didn’t stop until he was as far away from the sound as he could possibly get.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

6 notes · View notes